


Heaven Forbid

by DarkKnightDarkSide



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Sexual Situations, BDSM Lite, Bible Quotes, Biblical References, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Church Sex, Come Swallowing, Corporal Punishment, Cunnilingus, Domination, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Facials, Father Ren - Freeform, Gothic, Hand Jobs, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mention of infant, Nuns, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Priest Ben Solo, Priest Kink, Priests, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, Sacrilege, Sex Outdoors, Sexual use of religious objects, Shame kink, Softness, Spanking, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), Wax Play, description of violence in a dream, priestlo, unspecified time period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDarkSide/pseuds/DarkKnightDarkSide
Summary: Rey is an orphan at a Catholic orphanage, dreaming of life beyond the abbey. Father Kylo Ren is the orphanage rector, struggling with demons from his past. When the two find themselves sharing a secret, will it be the thing to damn their souls or will it save them both?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel, angel what have I done?  
> I’ve faced the quakes, the wind, the fire  
> I’ve conquered country, crown and throne  
> Why can’t I cross this river?  
> \- Puscifer

  
  


Through the splitting crash of thunder, no one heard the young girl scream. 

 

* * *

 

The dreams were always the same; Rey Kenobi found herself standing in the center of a graveyard, with tombstones twice her height littered in crooked rows as far as she could see in the thick fog. The damp, soft ground sank beneath her bare feet as she stumbled through the maze of stone angels and epitaphs. Her head jerked upward at a sudden eldritch cry in the distance; her eyes widened, their large black centers darting from side to side. Fear began to worm its way under the girl's thin nightgown. It closed its fingers around her ribs and started to squeeze, constricting until she felt she might suffocate. From some instinct she didn't know she possessed, Rey began to run.  
  
The white haze swallowed the broken headstones around her; they streaked by like a hundred waiting ghosts, cloaked in the deep mist. Rey stopped to catch her breath; she leaned forward, her hands on her knees, back slumped over, panting for oxygen, her sides aching from gasping the sharp night air. Her sight traced along the dark ground to follow a single shaft of moonlight eerily trailing before her.  
  
The silvery finger pointed to a large gravestone jutting out of the fresh earth. Rey was standing on a slight mound where the dirt felt softer between her toes. Her eyes widened with horror as she realized she was standing on someone's resting place, and as she read the words etched in the cold gray stone illuminated by moonlight, she screamed.  
  
Her mother's grave burst open at the sound, the earth beneath her legs ripping apart to take her into its dark belly.

                           

* * *

 

  
  
As the young girl thrust herself upward in bed, awaking violently, with belabored sobs and dripping with sweat, the last images she saw in her mind's eye were of being buried alive in her mother's tomb.

      
As the cold air of the tiny attic brushed away her fever, Rey looked about her bed, the stillness of the room sinking in. None of the other girls seemed to have been disturbed by her dreaming, not even Rose who slept at her side. They were used to Rey’s nightmarish fits from boarding together in the cramped quarters which were almost bursting to contain three tiny beds with two girls each.  
  
The occupants of the beds were fast outgrowing their accommodations, and every night was a wild tangle of balmy limbs; white bare legs and arms sore from the day's activities. No one could avoid being kicked during the night, or waking up with someone's head on their shoulder, or having some bone ground into their back from their bed partner.  
  
Being accustomed to all of this, plus the sheets which were wearing terribly thin and threadbare, the pillows which were nothing more but scraps of cloth stitched around straw, and the chilled climate of the room, a few outbursts of fright went unnoticed.  

     
Usually Rey dealt with the nightmares as with a pinched nerve. She flinched and shivered, shutting her eyes tightly and repeating Hail Marys in her mind over and over until the images faded and she could drop to sleep again. Tonight though, the fear rested at the bottom of her stomach like a stone tossed into a shallow lake. It sat there, tugging at her insides, its rough edges prodding at her tender heart.

     
“ _Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou...”_

_  
_ Rey's soft whispers floated through the darkness, but brought no calm to the girl. She bit her lip and clenched at the bedsheets.     

  
“ _Hail Mary, Full of Grace! The Lord is with thee! Blessed art thou..!”_

  
The prayer was fervent and desperate, like hot water rushing from a cold faucet. All the years and all the nights flooded back to Rey's recollection. Her mouth ran dry; her throat felt tight. She couldn't stay in the bed anymore... it seemed a deserted island in a forgotten sea. With a great push of will, Rey's bare feet landed on the icy floor with a dull thump.        
She threw the covers back for Rose and stood there, between her own bed and that of Paige and Jessika, looking out at the tiny room. In the darkness she crept toward the door, feeling her way along the edge of the beds. As her hand touched the doorknob she felt a little jolt of shock at her daring. The thought of being discovered by one of the nuns was nearly enough to send her back to her resting place, where she knew there would be no rest. But for fear of the ghost of her mother, she turned the iron handle slowly around, gripped in a tiny palm. The door opened, almost to Rey's surprise, and the balcony along the stairwell yawned forth.

                          

* * *

 

  
Father Kylo Ren heaved a great sigh, laying down his quill. The candlelight flickered across the defeated man's broken face, his brow furrowed with fret. He stood, pushing back the wooden chair, and felt how his bones ached from deep under his skin.  
  
In four days he had barely slept as many hours, and never in the night. He spent the lonely time in his study, pouring over the orphanage finances. The situation was growing grim: funding trickled like the spring of his youth; Kylo watched both drain through his fingertips. Now he pushed a sweaty palm through his dark hair, lifting an elbow to lean upon the window. The tip of his nose brushed the cold glass; all the grounds were cloaked in deep silence save for the rumble of the storm, as though sleeping through its own peril.  
  
Kylo stood mesmerized by his thoughts and the pattering rain until the pressure in him swelled to insurmountable heights. He turned from the window with a low groan and fell back into his chair. “Release…” he thought. He had to find release.   

  
Between the twin gates of his brown eyes, an enemy crept inside. Boiling up from his heart was a temptation wrapped in the gowns of mercy. Kylo knew what it was; his memories held darkly rooted recollections of what such thoughts resulted in. So often the echo of his own cries pounded in his ears, while he fought desperately to stamp out the ghosts of his youth that haunted him.   

  
“ _You filthy, dirty child! Satan has his hands around your soul, boy, but I'll beat him out of you yet!_ " he could hear his Aunt Snoke shrieking after him, over and over again.  
  
She had discovered the wad of linens in a crumpled heap under his bed. Hiding the covers was an infraction only warranting a swift slap on the bare bottom, but when she unfolded them to put them in the wash, the stains of his maturation exposed him before every shame-filled eye. His aunt had dragged him by the hair downstairs to find one of the bronze candlesticks she kept by the mantle. Tossing him into a chair, face down, she lifted the candlestick high above her head...   

  
Kylo began to shake where he sat, frozen in time. His breath grew shallow. He could still feel his lungs bursting from trying to hold in his anguished screams, screams he had not uttered in more than fifteen years. Usually the picture of his aunt’s face, trembling with rage, was more than enough to keep his temptations at bay. But somehow, tonight, it was because of her violence, because of his cowardice, that he had to give into them.

  
He shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. Release...that elusive woman in his dreams. He saw Peace as a tall, shapely portrait of feminine charms. She walked slowly towards him, tossing her long glossy hair off her shoulder, her breasts rising and falling with her breath. In her eyes there burned a fire Kylo had never known, save in the pits of his own private hell. Now it smouldered in the folds of his body, at his thighs and under his loose white shirt. The lady's lips parted; they were painted red, swollen with desire. Kylo could see the pink flesh of her warm tongue behind the soft pillows that framed it. In that moment he was entirely aware that he was a man; the sharp pangs of ache flowed in his blood, and swirled like a dangerous liquor through his pulsating veins.  

  
As the woman in his haze of illusion crept nearer and positioned her begging body on his lap, his stiff manhood jerked to attention. Through the clouds of reverie Kylo's hand slipped under the dark cloth of his breeches. He noticed no sensations on his fingertips - the loaded nerve endings of his engorged cock overrode all other senses. Lady Peace leaned forward, and touched the borders of Kylo's imagination. Her hot breath spilled forth onto his skin, and a long, animal moan rose from his throat. Not even aware of his movements, his hand pumped furiously at his cock, while the woman in his dreams caressed and fondled his skin, sneaking her fingertips under the fabric of his shirt. His pitiful lack of experience pushed him quickly toward climax, and he was skidding along its explosive edge when he heard an exclaim of fear from the doorway.  

   
Kylo’s eyes sprang open and he quickly leapt to his feet, his midsection pushing against the desk with a reckless force. The dark inkwell was knocked over, a liquid oblivion spilling forth from its toppled mouth. With horror, Kylo watched the gush of ink blot out over the papers he was working with. That month's finance record was ruined. He stood staring at it, his face contorted in disgust and exasperation, when at once he felt the sickly grip of fear. Who had been watching him?

  
His pants were still unclasped; the now limp head of his penis peeked from behind the opening. He made fumbling movements with his clothes, to tuck his member away again, all the while knowing he could not conceal his shame. Someone had seen him. Seen him grasping at himself with iniquitous ache, seen the greedy hunger in his eyes for that untouched dark virgin, seen him frothing like some primitive beast, broken in the sweat of sinners. Abhorrence was a jester with a painted grin, laughing at him. At that moment he had nothing but complete loathing for himself, and it was with a turning stomach that he made his way to the still-open door of his study.

  
He stood in the doorway, his stooped shoulders limned in the candlelight. The fingers of the light reached around him; not through him. It mingled with the deep shadows, it went on conjugal journeys with the darkness, but it would not touch him. Not such a vile thing as him. His molten eyes narrowed, his brow darkening just as his large pupils did. In the dim yellow glow he could just make something out, ahead of him.  
About 10 yards away was a small ghostly figure, limping its way through the black air. It moved slowly and stumbled here and there, scampering away as quick as possible, which did not seem to be quickly at all. Kylo dare not call out. He had no idea who it was, roaming the quarters like a phantom at this hour.  
  
Numbly and with the breadth of the realization washing over him like a chill, Kylo turned in a daze back toward his office. With mechanical movements he closed the door, walked to his desk, and began to wipe up the spill of ink, which now had reached its fingers of stain to the wood of the desktop. He stared into the candle flame dancing nude in infernal carousing. Something was beginning; something pulled Kylo by the sleeve, and wither path it meant to lead him down, he could not say.  
  
                                                                                   

* * *

  
  
Rey felt her way along the darkened corridor, trying to control her breathing, which sounded like a whirlwind in her ears. Silently she cursed herself for the urge to leave her bed.  
  
  
“Idiot, idiot,” she thought. “Now that Father Ren has caught you breaking the rules, you’ll be tossed out to the street!” She bit back tears, too much in shock to process what she had walked in on. Her focus was solely on being punished for disobedience, a cardinal sin at the St. Jedi Orphanage.  
  
Stumbling along as quickly as she could manage, she returned to the tiny room where her sleeping classmates were none the wiser. A hard day’s toil had sent them deep into slumber. How she envied them! Every last girl had their own sad tale to try and forget. No one came to a place such as this without bearing a cross on their backs. Yet it seemed only she who was haunted by her past, unable to accept that life had robbed her of the chance to be happy and left only days of labor and an uncertain future in return. She had always believed there had to be more for her than this. Sister Phasma would scold her for such thoughts. “ _God made you to humble yourself before Him, Rey. There is no greater purpose than to serve._ ” But Rey knew there had to be more.  
  
Once she was safely nestled into the mattress next to Rose, her breathing at last slowed and the hammering in her chest stilled. She lay staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, and the last image she saw before she fled back to the attic came again to her unbidden. So fixated was she on being exposed that she had not allowed herself to realize what it was she had witnessed.  
  
But what _was_ it she had seen? As she crept through the hushed halls, she had only meant to find her way to the balcony off the main stair. It overlooked the grounds and she knew that if she could just feel the cool of the spring rainstorm against her skin, she might shake off the nightmares and finally know peace. But before she could reach the doors, she had heard a most peculiar sound. It was as though someone was in pain - staccato gasps piercing the heavy silence followed by fevered groans.  
  
For a moment Rey forgot she was breaking the rules; if someone needed help she couldn’t simply walk away. But then she noticed that the sounds were coming from Father Ren’s study, and her blood quickened in her veins. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she hesitated. She could not be permitted to enter Father Ren’s study unbidden, and to do so would surely mean revealing her trespass after curfew - and yet, to do nothing might mean that someone in need, perhaps even Father Ren himself, would succumb to peril.  
  
Inching her way toward the sliver of light that spilled from the ajar study door, Rey reached out with a trembling hand to the knob. Perhaps she could merely peek inside to check that all was well, and if so sneak away unnoticed? Slowly, so slowly, she pushed on the door... But she could not help the startled gasp that revealed her to him, and him to her. Safely back in her bed now, she found the image was seared into her mind - Father Ren, sitting at his desk, eyes squeezed tightly shut, a sheen on his brow, his breeches pooled about his ankles. His ample lips were pursed to the shape of a small “o” and though the desk blocked from her view the core of his modesty, she could clearly see the ripples of his forearm as his grip tightened and went slack again and again.  
  
Rey had never been with a man. Rey had never _touched_ a man, that she could remember - not his guiding hand nor his gentle embrace. And yet something deep within her, something primal and low, told her this was the self-abasement that Sister Phasma had warned ferociously against. Still - when Phasma spoke of this, she spoke of a man or a woman abusing themselves, making themselves as beasts before God and forsaking their divine nature.  
  
Why, then, did something about Father Ren seem to glow from within as she watched him, a warm yellow flame that grew to a white hot inferno? Thinking of it now seemed to light the same flame in her. Rey squirmed in her nightgown, suddenly aware of the thin fabric clinging to the nest of her thighs. She felt a strange sensation unknown to her - but not unwelcome. A tickle that became a tingle, that became a teasing prickling over her hips and belly, and settled itself as a throbbing ache in her most secret place. Was Father Ren a sinner? If he was then she supposed she must be meant for damnation as well. And with that thought, Rey drifted again to a sleep, strangely better than she had known for many nights before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, S, for your unwavering faith in me. Moodboard by the lovable fettuccine-alfreylo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Ren devises a plan to discover his secret watcher. Rey makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’re a holy fool, all colored blue,  
> Red feet upon the floor.  
> You do such damage, How do you manage?  
> Trying to crawl back in for more  
> \- Florence + The Machine

  
  


Morning broke and Kylo found that it brought with it new resolve. Seven chimes of the bell called the abbey to prayer, but he had already been on his knees since dawn.    
  
“ _ O Lord, Jesus Christ, Redeemer and Savior, forgive my sins, just as You forgave Peter’s denial and those who crucified You. Count not my transgressions, but rather my tears of repentance. Remember not my iniquities, but more especially my sorrow for the offenses I have committed against You.”  _ __  
__  
As he had done a hundred times before, Kylo clasped his hands so tightly his knuckles whitened while he whispered the words his heart so desperately meant to uphold.   
  
“ _ Show me again, Heavenly Father, the power of the redeeming light, and I will finish that which you have tasked of me. Amen.”  _ __  
  
Feeling his courage strengthen anew, Kylo rose and began his simple morning routine. With a splash of cold water, he prepared the straight razor and deftly whisked away the stubble clinging to his narrow cheeks. The wash basin was the only place clergy were permitted a small mirror with which to shave, and he caught a glimpse of his reflection. In many days past, he would have avoided his own gaze for fear of the self-hatred he saw there.  __ Today was not a day to run from the truth , he felt the Spirit whisper, and so he permitted himself to see.    
  
In his youth, his visage would have been considered quite handsome - regal, even. His hair was thick with a raven luster; his nose, aquiline and proud; eyes, expressive and deep. This man in the mirror had but the ghost of those qualities, and Kylo accepted the sharp sting of humility to know it. Although the features were not much changed, dark circles now ringed his eyes, the bruise of worry blooming above his cheekbones. His face was pale and gaunt, deep pressure drawing lines across his brow.    
  
He lifted a hand to his left cheek and touched the thin scar that bisected his face from eyebrow to jaw. Many years had changed the skin to a pale and supple pink, yet the memory of the wound that made it remained fresh. He bore it as a brand of his stained soul - as God marked Cain, so his Aunt Snoke had marked him for his failings. This shroud hung heavy on his countenance, yet he was determined to throw it off and prove himself before God once and for all - prove himself worthy of the sacred duty he swore when he became Rector of St. Jedi Orphanage.    
  
Kylo changed from his night-clothes to his cassock and fastened the collarino about him like armor. He was ready to face whatever today may hold, and he knew what he had to do.   
  
Although he had slept quite fitfully, he found a clarity of mind not afforded to him in many months. The one who had seen him in his study must have been a ward, he reasoned. For if it had been a nun or priest, would not he have awoken to censure and shame? In the night his terror had clouded his judgment, but now as he stitched together the events he knew that the person in the white gown could only have been one of the orphans. In one sense this shamed him ever more deeply, for he was charged to protect these girls from threat of body and soul, and now he had exposed one of them to his most vile of sins. Yet in another, Kylo understood that God had given him a second chance, to keep his position and to be redeemed - if he could somehow discover which ward it had been, and ensure her silence.    
  
Kylo left his chambers with swift and purposeful steps, his long stride bringing him to overlook the main hall, where nuns and their charges moved silently to the day’s lessons. An idea came to him as he remembered again the phantom visitor scampering away from his study. “Perhaps...” he thought, “Perhaps.”    


* * *

  
  
Rey was finding it difficult to focus on Sister Phasma’s voice as she sat for morning catechetics. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Father Ren and the secret they now shared. Rey had always believed that nuns and clergy had some unshakable connection to the divine. She knew that the Lord’s teaching was that everyone had fallen from grace, but as hard as she tried, she never seemed to be able to climb to grace to begin with. But the clergy were different; they devoted their entire lives to prayer, to right action, to pursuing the face of God. If Father Ren struggled with sins of the flesh, did that make his days spent in the cloth more hollow or more whole? She couldn’t be sure.    
  
She thought back to the times she had seen him in the orphanage halls. He had always seemed so stern, a look of concentration ever on his brow. The other clergy clearly regarded him with respect as was due his station, yet they treated him warily too. Wherever the Reverend Father went, a storm cloud seemed to follow. Although she had always been too absorbed in her days to notice, she realized now how lonely he seemed.   
  
“Miss Kenobi, your attention please!” The sharp sting of Sister Phasma’s hickory switch against the back of her hand yanked her painfully from her musings. Her eyes welled at the sudden lash and she looked into the face of her scowling mistress.    
  
“Yes Reverend Mother, forgive me,” Rey murmured meekly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rose’s gentle look of concern.    
  
“It is not I who demands your contrition, Miss Kenobi. When we devote ourselves to the study of His word, we are in the presence of our Heavenly Father.”   
  
At that same moment, there came a light rapping on the door. Phasma moved to open it, and the racing of Rey’s heart became a gallop when the visitor was revealed.    
  
“Father Ren,” Sister Phasma inclined her head in respect. Phasma was tall for a woman, the long lines of her black habit magnifying her height. Still, Father Ren towered above her by at least a span. His broad shoulders filled the door frame as he bent to whisper something in the Supreme Mother’s ear. Rey felt her breath hitch and squeeze in her chest and her mouth was suddenly arid. Yet cutting through her dread was the strangest compulsion to focus intently on Father Ren’s mouth as his flushed lips parted and closed so near to Phasma’s ear…   
  
Sister Phasma’s blue eyes widened in surprise at what Father Ren was telling her, and Rey felt the stab of panic return. Had he somehow recognized her last night?    
  
The Reverend Mother turned toward her pupils and Ren stood like a statue at her side. His face was stony, unreadable. She was quite sure that her face, on the other hand, was the color of parchment.    
  
“It has come to my attention that one of you girls —“ Phasma began.    
  
Rey bit her lower lip to stifle a cry of alarm. She searched Father Ren for any sign of what Phasma may say next. Feeling her eyes on him, he flicked a quick glance in her direction. Did she see him actually wince when their gaze met? If he saw her last night, did that mean he knew that she saw him too? An eternity seemed to pass as she waited for Sister Phasma to finish.    
  
Then she heard the other girls begin to chatter around her excitedly and realized Phasma  _ had _ finished. Why then did everyone sound so - happy?    
  
Rose leaned forward in her seat behind Rey’s. “Rey! Did you hear that? Someone is going to be selected to be a governess for Admiral Hux’s estate! They’ll get to leave the abbey!”   
  
The breath Rey had been holding came out in a hiss and she shook her head in disbelief. He didn’t know. She was safe. And what was more - she might finally discover what destiny was awaiting her far from this walled-in existence.    
  
“Girls, settle yourselves! Show respect to Father Ren and conduct yourselves accordingly,” Phasma chastised them and the wards dropped again into silence.    
  
The Reverend Mother inclined her head once more to Ren and he smoothly exited.    
  
“Now then, let us return to our lessons. What can we learn from Proverbs 28:13?”   
  


* * *

  
  
Kylo stood at the front of the classroom at the Reverend Mother’s side and scanned the six young women before him. His duties at the orphanage left him little time to interact with the wards, save during weekly Mass or in the privacy of the confessional. Even that was rare. Each of the abbey’s four priests took turns to lead the holy rites and much of the girls’ training was left to the Mother Superior and her two nuns.    
  
Still, if he had learned anything in his half-decade as a servant of the Church, it was how to read guilt on a penitent’s face. Upon entering the room what he saw ranged from curiosity, to boredom, to confusion, but there was only one girl who looked as though she had seen a ghost: Rey Kenobi.   
  
Rey had been at St. Jedi Orphanage for nearly four years before Kylo had taken the position of Rector. Like all the young wards, he had witnessed her growth in both body and faith under Sister Phasma’s watchful eye. She was one of the eldest wards, and he knew her time at the Orphanage was nearing its end.    
  
To preserve their solvency and allow new charity to be extended, the Orphanage required each girl to find residency outside the abbey no later than the age of eighteen. The Reverend Mother and her nuns Sister Kanata and Sister Holdo taught the girls a variety of skills to assist in becoming self-sufficient. Naturally, study of the Holy Word was first among these and some of the girls had gone on to join the Church in other parishes. For others, they could make use of learning to sew, to cook, to keep a household. Each girl was literate, a true gift for their future away from the abbey. Latin, French, and Italian were taught along with a basic grasp of mathematics and geography.    
  
These skills proved useful for their most coveted adult occupation, a governess position with an established family. The boon of this was two-fold: not only did the fortunate girl receive a sizable wage, but the families themselves donated handsomely to the abbey in exchange for supplying the girl. If no suitable occupation could be found before a girl’s eighteenth birthday, a life in the work house surely awaited.    
  
Knowing this, Kylo set about to solve two of his problems with one stroke. If he could write to his childhood friend and former classmate, Admiral Hux, and persuade him to choose a governess from among the wards, he might find easement from the looming financial catastrophe. One less mouth to feed, combined with the donation Hux would make, would allow the abbey to continue operations for at least six months. By then perhaps the Church would see to increase their funding so St. Jedi could continue its holy work.    
  
At the same time, making the announcement in this unusual fashion would cause quite the stir among the wards, and Kylo was counting on this. His unexpected presence, his secretive exchange with the Mother Superior, and his knowing stare should cause the guilty party to reveal themselves unwittingly. And so it was.    
  
He watched Rey Kenobi shift uncomfortably in her seat as he whispered to Sister Phasma. His suspicions were confirmed when their eyes met directly. What he did not expect was that reflected in her expression of shame was a very mirror to his own. A look of pity that burned away to steely defiance caused him to flinch. Who was this girl, so vulnerable yet so brave? He had come to use the power of guilt against her, yet it was he who felt naked under her gaze.    
  
Kylo silently prayed for the Father’s strength for what he must do now that he had found his watcher.    
  
Leaving the classroom, he made his way to the kitchens where Sister Kanata would be preparing for the midday meal. He found the old woman bent over a pot of stew, tasting the aromatic broth as it simmered. Upon seeing his approach, she straightened her stance in respect until he waved her to ease.    
  
“Blessed day, Father Ren,” she greeted him.    
  
“Blessed day, Sister. I have come for some assistance. I trust you are equal to the task,” Ren said with a slight smile. Sister Kanata was the eldest of the clergy among them, and though she carried but the rank of Sister, he regarded her as the wisest. There was no goings-on at St. Jedi that could rattle her spirit, and he sought her counsel in private often.    
  
“If the Lord wills it, Father Ren. What troubles you?”    
  
“I have found a path that may yet pull us from the fire, Sister. I seek to secure a governess position for one of our wards, but I fear I have been derelict in my observations these past many months, may God forgive me. We should discuss each girl’s progress so that I may be a wise steward of this gift.” Ren paused a moment. Sister Kanata wiped her hands upon her apron and took a seat at the table in the kitchen’s heart.    
  
Careful to disguise his expression, Father Ren sat across from the Sister and asked, “Let us start with the oldest. What can you tell me about Rey Kenobi?”    
  


* * *

  
  


Morning lesson was over and Rey was carrying her books clasped to her chest when she heard a deep voice call her name.    
  
“Miss Kenobi?”    
  
She looked up to see Father Ren standing beside the stairwell. He appeared as though he had been waiting for her. She gulped a large breath and permitted her gaze to trail as far as the white of his collarino, but she dare not look him in the eye.    
  
“Miss Kenobi, I need a word. Would you please follow me?” Ren asked in a measured tone, still revealing none of his intent.    
  
Rey inwardly cursed him for his composure. It was a momentary lapse of her judgment, to wander the halls at night, and she had always been obedient in her ten years at St. Jedi Orphanage. How had she offended God to deserve such scrutiny? And besides, wasn’t it he who had more to hide, much more, than she? Rey knew that Jesus commanded us to remove the plank from our own eye before plucking the speck from our bretheren’s, but she also knew that she was a survivor. If she was to be punished for the seeing, then she would do her damnedest to make sure he was punished for the doing. She felt a sort of pity for Father Ren, knowing now that he wrestled with demons just as she did, but whether it was Christ-like or not, Rey would never simply accept her own ruin without a fight.    
  
Rey steeled herself during the short climb up the stairs and around the ledge to his study. She couldn’t help but feel an ironic sense of deja vu, re-enacting this journey in the daylight in the sight of every eye.    
  
When they reached the door, he retrieved a ring of iron keys from his belt loop and inserted the correct one into the lock. For the second time that day, Rey found herself noticing him; this time, his hands. His fingers were nimble despite their girth and his palms engulfed the oversized iron key as if it were a child’s plaything. Rey fought against the wicked memory of those enormous hands gliding beneath his small-clothes and felt her cheeks begin to bloom. Was she imagining it, or did she notice a slight tremor in his previously steady grip as he withdrew the key and pushed open the door for her to enter?

  
Rey had never been inside Father Ren’s study. The room was small but well appointed for the long days he often spent there. Running the orphanage entirely on donations from the church coffers demanded a careful eye to detail, an intimate knowledge of how best to utilize scarce resources, and more than a little faith. His desk was covered with stacks of parchment that bore neat rows of numbers in looping calligraphy. To the right of the desk was a corner hearth where the last embers of the morning fire cooled. Beside that was the largest and most impressive part of the study: a towering bookcase housing all manner of philosophy and theology tomes. The room smelled of leather, woodsmoke, and incense. Ren gestured for her to have a seat in a narrow wooden chair beside the fire, while he sat behind the safety of his desk. Rey obeyed, holding her books to her chest like a shield as she waited for him to speak.    
  
Father Ren stared at her for a long, uncomfortable minute. “Miss Kenobi, how old are you?”   
  
Rey blinked, not quite having expected this to be his first question. “I have just turned eighteen, sir.”    
  
“And how long have you been at St. Jedi Orphanage?”   
  
“Ten years, sir.”    
  
“I see. You do know that wards are required to leave the abbey by their eighteenth birthday?” Father Ren’s dark eyes seemed to bore holes through her.   
  
Rey felt her face grow hot. Now she understood. She didn’t know how, but somehow he did know she had seen him, and he meant to threaten her. Suddenly she became acutely aware that her world was like a grape under his thumb that he could crush so easily.    
  
“Yes sir. I have spoken to the Reverend Mother and she has granted me a one month extension. I have solicited to several families for governess positions, sir, but have not yet been received,” the last sentence trailed to silence as the girl dropped her eyes.    
  
Father Ren stood up behind his desk, stretching to his full intimidating height. Rey felt as though her hands were tethered to the arms of the chair, so still and tight were her muscles drawn.    
  
“The Mother Superior spoke naught of this to me.” Father Ren moved closer to her, that same unreadable expression returning to his face. “As Rector of the Orphanage, and as her spiritual shepherd, do you not think she would have asked my permission, Miss Kenobi?”   
  
Over the thundering of her heartbeat, Rey could barely hear herself squeak her answer. “Yes sir.” 

She had been sure that Father Ren was made aware of this exception, and to have him accuse her of conspiracy with the Reverend Mother was beyond the pale.    
  
Father Ren continued to stalk toward her; how he managed to stall his advance in such a small room, Rey could not say. “And do you not think, also, Miss Kenobi, that we must be good stewards of the limited resources given to us? That we must show gratitude to God for His blessings and obedience to Him in all His commandments?”    
  
She gave a weak nod at his question. Ren was so close to her now that she could reach out and touch his cassock. He towered above her, then bent at the knee just low enough to look her full in the face. “Then tell me, Rey, what would you have me do to one who has had her share of God’s generosity and yet demands more?”    
  
Rey had but one weapon remaining: the truth.    
  
“St. Jedi is my home, Reverend. If the Mother Superior has neglected to intercede for me, I beg you now to give me leave to stay until I can find someone to receive me. There is no need to send me away to the streets, Sir. Please know that I would never reveal your secret to the Mother Superior or to the other Brothers. Do not the Scriptures teach us to let he who is without sin cast the first stone? I know you are afraid, but you have nothing to fear but God Himself.” The words tumbled from Rey’s mouth.    
  
Father Ren looked as though he had been slapped. His lower lip trembled slightly and the color drained from his face. He was still near enough to her that she could smell the lingering smoke of myrrh in his hair. She saw the hardness in his glittering eyes melt away to reveal a pleading, and an ache.    
  
What happened next she could not have expected. Father Ren fell to his knees. With his head bowed, his black hair covering his eyes, and his chin quivering, he clasped Rey around the legs.    
  
“Forgive me, my daughter. I have sinned in the sight of the Lord and thereby exposed you to a most vile and wicked knowledge.” Father Ren choked back a sob.    
  
Rey sat in utter disbelief. The events of the last day had until now been merely surreal; as she sat in private with The Very Reverend wetting her lap with tears, begging  _ her _ forgiveness, she felt an almost out of body experience. Her heart was churning with emotions that she scarcely knew how to sort: pity for this holy man brought low was chief among them, but the nearness of his body was creating quite another sensation altogether. The same stirring she had felt last night in her bed was creeping its way from her collarbone to her navel, tantalizing her young body along the way.    
  
“It was wrong of me, so wrong to bring you here. Forgive me. Forgive me. Of course you can stay at the abbey, only please have mercy on me.” Still on his knees, he was the very picture of contrition. Rey moved her mouth numbly, willing her voice to work, as she looked down at this tempest of a man before her.   
  
“Father,” she began cautiously. “You are forgiven.”    
  
At last remembering himself, Ren raised his eyes to hers. There were dark stains on her dress from his crying. Now it was his turn to search intently for her judgment.    
  
Rey continued. “What if there were some way we could help each other? When you came to morning lesson and told us of Admiral Hux seeking a governess, were you being truthful?”    
  
He replied with a puzzled expression, “In a manner of speaking. The Admiral and I were educated together, before I took the cloth. I do know that he is seeking a governess, but he has not yet expressed interest in the orphanage. I planned to write to him to suggest it anon. I do believe he will do this for me.”    
  
“Very well. It seems to me that I am seeking a position, and you could give that to me. While you are seeking to be absolved of your conscience…” She was about to make her proposal but found her nerve faltering at the last.    
  
Father Ren stood to his feet again, finally composed. “I see. This is the price of your silence?”    
  
Rey took a slow and steadying breath. “Because you are The Very Reverend, you have my silence. What I would like to offer you is a way to exorcise your guilt.”    
  
“And how shall I do that except to prostrate myself before the Lord? Surely you are not saying you intend to forgive my sins?” His eyes squeezed slightly and his lip curled into a sneer. Rey nearly forgot the compassion she had felt a moment ago as she was cradling his head, but the ripples of fire beneath her dress were not as easily dismissed.    
  
“The Scripture teaches us that the Lord works all things together for those who serve Him. What if my finding you last night was no accident, Father? What if I were meant to share your secret?”    
  
Father Ren shook his head. “How could this possibly have been good for either of us, child?”    
  
“Because, Father, it may be better for one to share your suffering than for you to bear this burden alone. When God wanted to test Abraham, He asked him to sacrifice Isaac, the most precious thing in the world to him. But when God saw Abraham’s faith, He provided instead a lamb. Just now you were prepared to sacrifice your position if it meant making right your sin. But God has given you another way. I can be your sacrificial lamb, Father. When you are tempted to lust, let it be only with me. I can be the scapegoat upon which you lay your iniquities, Father.”    
  
Ren’s eyes bugged and his flush lips hung slack. She had shocked him, she knew. She had shocked herself. But Rey had never felt closer to God than she had when he had touched her, innocent as it was. There was something powerful between them and she meant to find out why.    
  
Father Ren’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he strained to speak. “Rey… what you are saying is blasphemy. I am trying to resist this evil, not let it take me over. So far I have managed to keep my impurities to thoughts and self-abasement, but what you are asking of me would be to break my vows. What’s more, you are pure. I cannot be responsible for both your fall and mine.”    
  
The part of Rey that had been taught from birth to fear the Lord knew he was right. But the part of Rey that had lived this long, deserted in the world, on determination and force of will alone was sure this was what she wanted, and what would help The Reverend in the end. On instinct, she pushed forward in the chair and dropped to her knees before him. Their fortunes had reversed yet again, only there was no fear in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to his lovely face.    
  
“Sister Phasma always tells us there is no greater purpose than to serve. Let me serve you, Father. Please.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Gwendoline Christie for stealing some of your height for the sake of artistic liberties.
> 
> Endless thank yous to everyone who has left comments and kudos, and given this story a moment of your time. This is my first fanfic so it means quite a lot to me.
> 
> A special thank you to Fettuccine-alfreylo for the beautiful moodboard. You humble me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Ren struggles with temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your crazy fragrance all around  
> Your secrets all in view  
> My lost, my lost was saying found  
> My don’t was saying do.  
> Let’s keep it on the level  
> When I walked away from you  
> I turned my back on the devil  
> Turned my back on an angel too.  
> \- Leonard Cohen

  
  


Kylo recoiled from the girl as though she had burned him. The sight of her on her knees before him, offering her body as a lightning rod for his depraved needs was making the room spin. Why was he being made to face such temptation?

The conversation between them had spiraled beyond his control so quickly. Although he did not relish using his position against her, he felt he had to ensure her silence for both their sakes. He had indeed known about the reprieve Phasma had offered the girl, for abandoning a ward so cruelly was not in his nature. Kylo knew he often appeared cold to the others, but it was necessary to maintain proper detachment from worldly things. Inwardly he felt everything deeply, and he regarded this as the source of his failings. If he were stronger, perhaps the orphanage might not be in such precarious balance today.  
  
But when the girl had responded again to him with compassion for his struggle even as he sought to intimidate her, the dam within him had broken. He had never revealed his private battles with temptations of the flesh, not even in confession. Not since he paid for his mistakes with his blood had he dared to speak of it anywhere but in anguished prayer.  
  
Hearing Rey not only name his sin but offer to cover it was a higher mercy than he had ever expected. And from whom did this forgiveness come? Not from a bishop or a monsignor, or even from the Holy Father himself. From Rey Kenobi, a lowly orphan in his charge.  
  
He felt like a child in her presence. She had a power within her that she knew of not, but he saw it shining behind her eyes as surely as he saw the sunrise. And now, this girl, this orphan, would offer him release from his sins by multiplying them? It was too much.  
  
And yet, Kylo looked upon her now as if for the first time. She was dressed modestly, as all the wards did, in a dark brown wool frock. The neckline was high and the skirt was long, but they could not fully disguise the swell of her pert young tits nor the flare of her narrow waist. Rey’s hair was pulled into an intricate bun with a braid crossing the crown of her head. Kylo was struck by a sudden urge to see her undo her pins so that he might touch her auburn tresses, and he wondered if they would feel as silk upon his fingers. If he commanded her to now, would she unbutton her collar to reveal her swan white neck to be suckled and kissed? Kylo felt his cock twitch to life and he bit down on his tongue until he tasted copper. This was madness.  
  
“Rey… _please_ … get off your knees,” he beseeched her. He turned to avoid looking at her any longer, lest he lose the fight raging within him. “I cannot be part of this.”  
  
A long moment passed and he heard her skirts rustle as she rose to her feet. He dared not turn back around.  
  
“If I can arrange it, I shall speak on your behalf to Admiral Hux. What you have given me already with your silence is more than enough. This burden is mine to bear alone, Rey. Go now, my child, go and pray for us both. May God have mercy on our souls.” Kylo walked to the window behind his desk. He caught a glimpse of her distorted reflection in the glass, and he found that the crestfallen look on her face pained him. He stood silently until at last she turned to go.

Only when he was alone did he allow his composure to crumble. His shoulders slumped forward and he rested his heated cheek against the cool window pane, a groan escaping from his lips. The sense of purpose he felt this morning turned to sunken defeat. What a mess he had made of things - _again_.

Before he came under the wing of the Church and devoted himself to God, he had not lived a holy life. There were many things for Kylo to regret, many things to atone for. But after time he found that his Redeemer’s mercy was like a shield, deflecting the blows of his conscience and making him a stronger man. All except for one assailant he could never seem to best.

Ever since he was a boy, his emotions got the better of him. They bubbled up in white-hot rage, in stinging tears, and in howling shouts of indignation. And when the cup was full to brimming, when it could not hold another drop of loneliness, his body flooded with the need for relief. Passion overtook him and in those brief moments between the wanting and spending, he finally felt free.

As a man of the cloth he had worked to conquer all his worldly desires - for vengeance, for pride, for every gluttonous appetite. But in his most troubled hours, the burning lust would always return, and self-loathing was close behind it.

For all his struggles, Kylo’s one point of pride was that he had never crossed that forbidden line between private thoughts and public deeds. He repressed his urges when possible, prayed them away, and at his weakest moments he indulged himself. But he never allowed his fantasies to stray into the real world. The woman he saw was simply his projection of relief personified. She was a succubus of his own making.

In this way Kylo felt he was still obeying Jesus’s warning that if one has looked upon a woman with lust, he has committed adultery. It was a lie he told himself when he felt the flames of damnation licking at his heels. Now, with the picture of the nubile and willing Miss Kenobi firmly stitched in his imagination, he wasn’t sure he even had this defense to cling to. Kylo knew that the next time he was tempted, it would be _her_ freckled skin and _her_ golden eyes that would beckon him. The question that was currently devouring him from the inside out was whether he would be strong enough to resist.

With a shaking hand, Kylo felt inside the pocket of his cassock for the blood red rosary beads he faithfully kept there. He caressed each bead one by one, whispering Hail Mary’s as he counted along the strand. When his heartbeat had returned to its normal rhythm, he spoke directly to the heavens.

_“Oh Lord, Most pure and blameless, give me the strength I need to turn away from this evil. Let my body and soul belong ever to Christ, and by the grace of God I shall not be seduced. Amen.”_

 

* * *

 

Three long days passed and he had managed to avoid his would be seductress. An extra hour of prayer at dawn and at eventide held the worst of his thoughts at bay. True to his word, he had penned a letter to the Admiral to suggest that he visit the Orphanage and meet the wards to assist in his search for a governess. His hand only shook a little when he wrote Hux of the brilliant and well mannered girl he had specifically in mind. With a press of his red wax seal bearing the sign of the cross, he entrusted the letter to the courier. He knew Hux was currently at sea and it may be a few weeks or more before he received the letter, and another few weeks for him to make the trip to the abbey. He could only pray that God would hasten this solution for both himself and for Rey, to deliver them from the mouth of ruin.

Although he had so far been able to protect his waking mind, it seemed his subconscious had its own agenda. The morning after Rey had offered herself, Kylo had awoken hard and throbbing beneath his small clothes. It took all his strength to go immediately to the wash basin for a dousing of cold water, not even risking to touch himself to urinate. He whimpered as his erection at last softened and he was delivered unscathed.

The next morning he awoke to find his thighs sticky with spend. It seemed that without granting himself his needed release, even the friction of the rough wool blanket in the night was enough to coax his traitorous body into betrayal.

Then came the dreams. 

On the fourth day he was crossing the main hall toward the library when he heard girlish laughter ringing like bells. He turned to see one of the wards, Rose Tico, sneaking behind another girl and covering her eyes in a game of ‘Guess Who?’ The blinded girl was Rey and she laughed merrily at her friend’s prank. A wide smile spread across her pouty lips and she stuck out her tongue as a taunt to Rose. Kylo stood transfixed as he watched the innocent display, to his great error. For once Rose removed her hands from Rey’s face, she caught him staring from across the room. Instantly, her joyful expression faded and he saw a mixture of pain and hunger in her hazel eyes.  
  
That night, Kylo was haunted by visions as he tossed in his bed. They were back in his study on the day he had refused her, only this time he did not find the strength to turn away. She kneeled before him, supplicant and waiting, and he approached her slowly. Her chin was tilted upward, eyes shining wickedly, and her perfect mouth was held ready, agape.  
  
He stopped mere inches from where her body sat, the hem of his belt almost level with her face. To his right was a narrow pedestal that held the ritual bread and the communal chalice. He broke a small crumb of bread from the loaf and offered it to her.  
  
“This is my body, broken for you,” Kylo murmured as he placed the bread on the center of her slick tongue. Her lips moved to capture it and enveloped the tip of his finger. She never broke eye contact as the hot, wet velvet of her mouth greedily sucked Father Ren’s thick digit. His abdomen clenched with need, and he inserted a second finger into her mouth, probing its depths before pulling out to watch her bottom lip drag and spring back.  
  
Next Kylo presented the chalice. The acrid scent of the wine filled his nostrils as he gently tilted the cup to her lips. Just before she tasted it, Kylo rasped huskily, “This is my blood, spilled for you.”  
  
He watched the muscles of her throat contract beneath her smooth skin as she drank the wine. Kylo tilted the chalice higher and higher until her mouth overflowed and burgundy liquid dribbled from the corners of her lips. It ran in rivulets down her neck and chin but she kept swallowing as though she were dying of thirst. When the cup was empty, he pulled it back to see her wine-soaked lips. Just before he awoke, he bent down to taste her kiss…  
  
                       

* * *

 

  
Kylo awoke panting, his linens damp with perspiration. His cock was aching and the weight of his balls pulled between his thighs. Would this torture never end? He had done everything he knew to do but still his body yearned for her. His Scripture was dogeared with every verse on resisting temptation from Genesis to Revelation, and he had calluses on his knees from long hours spent begging God to take this burden from him. And yet this girl had utterly possessed him without ever laying a hand on his skin.  
  
He had but one last hope of cleansing his mind of her stain. If God would not help him, then perhaps the Devil could. Surely this was better, he reasoned, than giving in entirely and forsaking his vow? He knew it would not take long. His muscles were coiled tight as a bow string from the constant push-and-pull of the last week.  
  
Before his nerve failed him, Kylo shucked his small clothes down his hardened thighs. Beyond ready, his thick member sprung back, reaching for his navel. Kylo closed his eyes and thought of Rey. He knew she had never been with a man, never seen a man throbbing to spill his seed. He imagined her face if she could see him now, her pupils blown wide with awe and hunger. Would she watch intently as his palm glided over his length, thumbing the fleshy crown at each top pass? Would she be curious or disgusted to see how the clear fluid dribbled from the slit each time he tugged downward, thrusting into his fist? Every vein of his cock was filled to straining and his throat closed itself to air. A final image of Rey leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on the purpled head as though she were kissing his holy ring pushed Kylo violently over the edge. He came with a roar, seed splattering across his belly and chest in thick ropes.  
  
The afterglow was short lived as a crashing wave of shame descended upon him. The void of discharged sexual energy was quickly filled by a remorse so strong it made him sick. With his cum still drying on his skin, Kylo began to weep. His body, so recently shuddering in pleasure, was now quaking with sobs. Wailing into his pillow until his voice was strangled and hoarse, he had never felt so hopeless.  
  
He could not even think of the words to pray. “Please… please… please,” was the only thing he could gasp out.  
  
In the distance, the bell tolled solemnly.  
  
                       

* * *

 

That week was Kylo’s turn to lead the holy rites. His reflection as he dressed was pale and pained and his hands trembled as he fastened his collarino and looped the crucifix about his neck.  
  
Waiting in the vestibule before services commenced, Father Dameron approached him.  
  
“Father, please pardon me for asking but, are you well?”  
  
Kylo scanned Poe Dameron’s youthful face, considering how truthfully to respond. He wondered what secret sins Dameron’s naive heart hid. The way he kept his robes immaculate, down to the coal shined shoes, Kylo guessed that it was pride.  
  
He forced a wan smile. “Thank you brother, I have been neglecting my rest but with God’s grace I am able to praise His name.”  
  
Father Dameron quirked an eyebrow but said nothing further.  
  
The first strains of the Entrance Chant began and Kylo advanced slowly toward the altar, swinging the thurible as he went.  
  
Father Ren delivered a stirring homily on repentance, all the while avoiding Rey’s penetrating gaze. He was eternally grateful Father Finn Storm was assisting with distributing the Eucharist today. The last thing he needed was to bring his unclean thoughts into the pulpit.  
  
The dismissal was given and there was but one remaining duty: to meet each member of the congregation in the confessional.  
  
Kylo had been preparing for this moment ever since his nightmare. He couldn’t continue to live this way, afraid of a child. He had a flock to lead and a mission to carry. Gripping his crucifix tightly, he entered behind the veil.  
  
He heard first from the nuns. Confession was meant to be anonymous but in such a small enclave there was no concealing yourself. Even through the gossamer shroud he knew each person’s voice, their manners, and their sins. Most of them were venial and tame, the same week after week. Inattentiveness to prayers, a moment of anger, a selfish impulse. From the wards, taking the Lord’s name in vain, covetousness, or pride were common. Over the years, he had rarely heard anything more serious than the time a former ward confessed to stealing her classmate’s locket. He knew that would end today.  
  
She was the last to enter the booth and he wasn’t sure she would come at all. The penultimate confession had ended fifteen minutes before, yet he waited. He needed this to happen. He needed to lay his mind at rest, once and for all.  
  
In the shadows behind the veil, his other senses were heightened. She stepped timidly inside and knelt on the bench for a long moment, saying nothing. He could smell the wild lavender she had woven into her braid. Her face looked almost otherworldly, dotted with threads of light from the lattice between them. At last, she spoke.  
  
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven days since my last confession.”  
  
Kylo set his jaw tightly and strained to keep his voice level. “Confess your sins before God, my child, for His mercy endures forever.”  
  
“I have committed the mortal sin of lust, Father, and my thoughts have been impure.” Rey spoke this in a hushed whisper, yet her remorse was not evident.  
  
“This is a grave sin indeed, my daughter, yet God is just and merciful to forgive if you are truly sorry for your offense. Will you accept your penitence with a willing heart and find solace for your eternal soul?”  
  
“I will, Father,” Rey vowed.  
  
“Then meet me in my study at the stroke of midnight, and we shall see how contrite you truly are.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit I’m a sucker for a good jerk-and-cry. 😈
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for every comment, kudo, and view. Thank you also to my wonderful beta who makes me believe I can actually do this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resistance is futile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only heaven I'll be sent to  
> Is when I'm alone with you  
> I was born sick, but I love it  
> Command me to be well  
> Amen, Amen, Amen  
> \- Hozier

Ten deep clangs from the abbey bell vibrated through the night. Rey felt each chime in the pit of her stomach as she lay in bed beside Rose. She tried to calm herself in the usual ways, but prayers felt wrong considering the reason for her nerves.  
  
Rey’s life until now had been one of quiet obedience masking deep wells of longing. She yearned for the past, to return to a time of happiness that had never quite existed, and she yearned for the future where she might find herself more than ordinary. Adventure, purpose, belonging, and love. These were all the things Rey knew she had not been born into but felt were waiting for her, somewhere beyond the abbey walls.  
  
And now she had discovered that the same hunger lived in Father Ren. He tried to deny it, he tried to subvert it, but when the veil had dropped and she had seen the naked pain in his eyes, she knew they were the same. Before he became a priest, he had been a man. She was convinced that man still lived within him, desperate to break free.  
  
Not for the first time in her life, Rey questioned the will of God. She knew this was a sin but what did sins seem to matter when He had always been blind to her before? Where was God when Rey’s father drank and gambled away the little pittance they had, getting himself thrown to debtor’s prison and leaving her mother and an infant Rey to fend for themselves? Where was God when Rey’s mother fell ill with pneumonia from working herself to the bone? She had not seen Him at the wake, nor at the gravesite, nor was He there when their greedy tenant master, Unkar Plutt, sold off their last possessions for overdue rent and sent Rey to live at St. Jedi.  
  
God had taken everything from her; perhaps it was time to return the favor and take something from Him.  
  
Rey wondered with a shiver what Father Ren had in store for her. She remembered the ecstasy on his face that first fateful night. Would she have a chance to taste that same pleasure? Her mind could not imagine how it would feel. The little joys Rey had known in life came from simplicity: a belly full of stew on a cold day, private giggles shared with Rose at bedtime, receiving the one new dress she got each year from the nuns on Christmas. The rapture she had witnessed in his expression seemed supernatural by comparison.  
  
She knew very little of what men and women did together in secret. Would he command her to remove her gown and let him study her nakedness? Would he press his mouth to hers like in the fairytales her mother told her as a young child? Or would he claim her body as his own, and in return leave her finally a woman? Rey’s thighs clenched tightly at that thought, while her stomach turned somersaults.  
  
The chimes rang again, eleven this time. Not long now. She had waited an entire week for him to make his decision yet this last hour was the most dreadful.  
  
His rejection that day had stung, more than she could have anticipated. What was it about Father Ren that made her so willing — indeed, so _eager_ — to risk her soul? She had told him she wanted to help him, to give him someone to focus his energies on so that he might find relief from his needs. That was half true. The other half, which she did not reveal, was that she felt connected to him now in an unexplainable way. His secret struggles, his surprising vulnerability, his body close to hers - all these things filled a void in her she hadn’t known was there. She hoped he felt it too.  
  
Rose murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer to Rey’s back. Her arm pulled at Rey’s waist, seeking warmth in the chilled room. Rey inhaled a sharp breath and tried to wiggle away from her friend’s grasp without waking her. Rey and Rose shared everything, having come to the orphanage only a few days apart. She hated to keep secrets from her but it was better this way for everyone.  
  
She knew the time was drawing near and prepared herself for the danger she was about to invite. Slowly, so slowly, she scooted to the left edge of the bed and raised to sit. Rey snuck a peek at Rose but the girl seemed to be lost in her dreams. She pointed her toes to the floor and let her weight balance on the balls of her feet, moving at a snail’s pace to the attic door. The handle turned with a creak and Rey nearly jumped from her skin, looking back in panic to see if anyone had heard. The other girls were not disturbed, so she gathered her courage and opened the door just as the first chime of the hour was struck.  
  
Rey moved as quickly as she could, hoping the noise of the bell would muffle her steps. At last she passed the main stairwell, and could see Father Ren’s study ahead. He had left the door ajar just enough that the candle flame beckoned her hither. She crept to the heavy wooden door and pushed it lightly open. There was no turning back now.  
  
Father Ren sat behind his desk, quill in hand, pouring over a parchment laid out before him. The first two buttons of his white undershirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and in place of his cassock he wore a pair of fitted black breeches. Rey stood by the door and shifted uncomfortably, still unacknowledged. Had she misunderstood the reason he called her here?  
  
At last, Ren casually flicked his eyes upward as if just now noticing her in the room.  
  
“Ah, Miss Kenobi. Please, have a seat.” Kylo spoke smoothly, once again in full control.  
  
He had moved the wooden chair from the fireplace to the opposite side of his desk. Rey did as he asked and looked to him, expectantly.  
  
“Before we begin your penance, there are some things we must discuss. An agreement we must come to. First, you must know that I will demand your complete submission. Whatever I ask, whatever I require, you will provide without hesitation. Can you do that, Miss Kenobi?”  
  
“Yes Father,” Rey answered obediently, though butterflies wheeled in her stomach.  
  
“Good girl. The second agreement is that outside of this room, you are to tell no one of what happens here. There will be no knowing looks, no subtle words, no acknowledging each other beyond priest and parishioner. Is that understood?”  
  
“I swear, Father.”  
  
Kylo looked into her eyes. “Then we come to the third and final agreement. If, at any time during your punishment the flames that lick your body burn too hotly, you must tell me at once. If you wish me to show you lenience, you need only say the word ‘ash’ and I shall relent. Nod if you understand.”  
  
She nodded as a shiver rolled down her spine.  
  
“Very good. Then tell me Miss Kenobi, how was it you came to be breaking curfew that night?”  
  
Rey shifted in her seat, taken off guard by his question. “I had a nightmare, Father.”  
  
Studying her carefully, Kylo repeated, “A nightmare?”  
  
“Yes Father. It seemed very real.”  
  
“Very real indeed to have made you risk punishment by the nuns, I should think. Do you have bad dreams often, Rey?” His face softened.  
  
“More often than I should like, Sir. Generally I pray to the Virgin Mary for protection but that night the storm was battering outside, and I simply couldn’t stay in the darkness any longer,” Rey’s voice was so quiet Kylo leaned forward to hear. A shadow passed over his face at her mention of darkness.  
  
“It is always worth the risk to seek the light, Miss Kenobi. I wonder, what did you imagine once you returned to your bed?”  
  
Rey inhaled a sharp breath. She wanted to give him what he asked, but she was hesitant. Finally, she replied, “I remembered you, Father, and the way you moved. It…excited me.”  
  
“Excited you. Yes. And frightened you, no doubt.” Kylo stood from his seat, moving closer to her now. “That was your first time seeing a man pleasure himself?”  
  
Rey felt her ears burning. “Yes, Father.”  
  
Ren closed the distance between them, stealing her breath with his approach. “Confess, my child: what did you see in your mind’s eye this week?”  
  
His closeness to her was making it increasingly difficult to think. “I…I thought of you often. I wondered whether you would accept my offer, and if you did, of how you would let me serve you…” Her voice died in her throat as Kylo moved behind her, burying his nose into her hair.  
  
His lips brushed the back of her neck as he spoke and it took everything she had to remain still. “You want to serve me, don’t you Rey?”  
  
Rey bit her lower lip to stifle a moan. Her neck rippled with goosebumps where his soft mouth grazed her skin. “Yes, Father.”  
  
“Do you know what torture you have put me through this week, girl? Do you know how fiercely I have had to fight for my soul when I thought of you here, offering yourself to me?” Kylo’s voice rumbled in her ear, thick with lust.  
  
Rey gripped the arms of the chair, the goosebumps spreading down her spine.  
  
“Now that I have you, Rey, I am going to make you pay so dearly for that torture. Your penance begins now, my wicked girl.”  
  
With that, Father Ren grasped her hand and helped her to her feet. Guiding her around his desk, he took his seat. Kylo turned to stretch his long legs toward Rey and before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her by the waist and turned her over his knee.  
  
“Father,” she gasped, her heart in her throat.  
  
“Shh, shh,” Kylo calmed her, reaching down to stroke her exposed calves where the nightgown had risen. She shivered at his touch, heat beginning to pool in her loins.  
  
“What’s your word, Rey, if you wish me to stop?”  
  
“Ash, Father,” she answered quickly.  
  
“Good girl,” he praised her, sounding pleased.  
  
Kylo hooked a finger at the hem of her nightgown, pulling it slowly until her knickers came into view. Rey squirmed into his lap, feeling something thick and hard against her belly. His large hand slid along her thigh, rucking the gown even higher now, exposing the curve of her tight ass in the cotton bloomers. Kylo groaned, letting his fingertips skate in circles over Rey’s firm cheeks.  
  
Rey was practically panting now, silently begging him to hurry. The lazy pace at which he was exploring her body was every bit the torture he had promised.  
  
As if sensing her impatience, Kylo let out a low chuckle. “Oh my sweet delicious child. I am going to take my time with this and enjoy it. After the hell you have put me through, you owe me at least that much.”  
  
Kylo lifted his hand, palm stretched flat and brought it down with a crack against Rey’s tender ass. She yelped as the smack connected, eyes flung open wide.  
  
Kylo leaned down to murmur into Rey’s ear. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Miss Kenobi, and it is my sacred duty to see to it that you are punished.”  
  
He spanked her again, harder this time. Rey whimpered, the line between pain and pleasure blurring at the edges. After each blow, he would cup her ass with a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat through the fabric of her underwear.  
  
“How dare you offer your sweet body to tempt me into sin? Have you no shame?”

  _SMACK!_

His words were making her wet and each time he spanked her, a jolt of electricity buzzed straight to her pussy. Her squirming seemed to excite Kylo more and he teased her all the harder. She could feel his erection like iron beneath her.  
  
“Sinful, wicked girl, making me abase myself as I dreamed of your wet mouth and your virgin cunt,” Kylo rasped into her ear. Rey moaned at Father Ren’s lewd words and his deft fingers that stroked her inner thighs after each spank. She had never felt so dirty, yet so alive.  
  
_SMACK!_  
  
“Confess, my child, you are filled with unclean thoughts!” He commanded, but was met with only panting for response.  
  
_SMACK!_  
  
“Tell me what you are, Rey!” Kylo snarled, swept away by lust.  
  
“I am…I am a sinner, Father,” Rey cried, hot tears stinging her eyes.  
  
Rey’s ass was burning and she had nearly spoken the word to make him stop, but the pleasure and the pain were warring within her until she couldn’t think clearly. She felt close to spilling over, when suddenly Kylo slowed his assault. He was breathing heavily, but returning to control.  
  
Kylo was massaging her sore bottom now, his finger trailing along her taut crack. He stopped at the wet spot where her pussy had soaked through the cloth that covered it.  
  
“Tsk tsk. I daresay you’re enjoying this, Miss Kenobi,” Kylo teased.  
  
“Yes, Father. Please…” Rey shut her eyes. Her loins were on fire. She wanted nothing more than for Father Ren to expose her bare skin and kiss the sting of his spanking away.  
  
“Please what, my child?” He asked with a smirk.  
  
“Please… I want you to touch me,” Rey’s cheeks were flushed with shame. “Touch me wi—without my bloomers,” she managed to stammer out.  
  
In one fluid motion, Kylo grasped her under both arms and lifted her as though she weighed nothing. He placed her again upright on quivering legs, to Rey’s bewilderment.  
  
“Father, what’s wrong? Did I displease you?” She asked, unable to conceal the disappointment in her voice. The pulsing in her pussy was driving her mad.  
  
Father Ren’s eyes flashed with wolfish hunger. “Quite the contrary, my child, it pleases me very much to hear you beg. And it will please me even more to know that tonight, when you return to your room, you will feel the same ache between your legs you have cursed me with these last many days.”  
  
Rey whined, “I feel it Father, and I am sorry for tempting you, only please touch me again.”  
  
She could see on his face that he enjoyed her agony. He grinned lasciviously. “Did you expect that I would deflower you here, on top of my desk? Oh no, my little vixen. You have submitted yourself to me, and now we play the game by my rules. Until I call you to me again, I want you to think on this night, and imagine all the things I could do to your body in the dark. Imagine my hands caressing and teasing your most secret places, imagine the heat of my mouth and my weight pressed against you. BUT — no matter how intensely your need swells within you, you _must not_ touch yourself.”  
  
Rey’s head was spinning. She didn’t understand what had happened here, only that she couldn’t help her thighs from clenching reflexively or biting the inside of her lip when her hardened nipples brushed against her gown. “Touch myself, Father?” She asked innocently.  
  
Kylo smiled darkly. “Yes, my sweet innocent girl. Do you know why abusing yourself is a sin?”  
  
“Sister Phasma says it is because it causes impure thoughts.”  
  
He laughed, making her blush at her own ignorance. “Not quite. The thoughts come first, then you feel a coiling in your belly like an itch that needs to be scratched.”  
  
Rey squirmed. This she understood.  
  
Kylo continued, “Then, when you touch yourself, the itch moves lower, between your legs. It gives you a wicked sort of pleasure, and that pleasure grows into a great crescendo until at last every part of you is singing with it. And at that moment, the joy you feel rivals even that of seeing God. That is the sin, my child: to take that much ecstasy in worldly delights. When that happens to you for the first time, I want to be there to look upon your angelic face. Until then, I’ll watch you writhe from your place at my feet.”  
  
She shuddered, feeling utterly at the mercy of this holy man and his demons. The small voice of her conscience tugged at her heart saying “ What have you done?” But there was another voice, and that one told her that if being at his delicious and torturous mercy meant going to hell, it might yet be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so humbled and flattered by your support. 
> 
> The story is fully outlined now and looks to be about 13 chapters. I have one more written after this and am working on six. Once I catch up the updates may be a bit slower but I am excited to finish. Priestlo has taken over my brain (and I ain’t mad about it...)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Ren proposes a solution to the orphanage's peril. Rey has doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think it's gettin' better  
> And then it gets much worse  
> Is it just part of the process?  
> Well, Jesus Christ, it hurts  
> Though I know I should know better  
> Well, I can make this work  
> Is it just part of the process?  
> Well, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, it hurts  
> \- Florence + The Machine

After Rey returned to her bed, she found that sleep was a ridiculous notion. The torrent of tingles between her legs was unbearable and each time she shifted to seek a comfortable position, she discovered that the sliding of her drenched folds heightened her agony. Her sore bottom did nothing to help matters, and the rough straw mattress provided little relief for her still-burning flesh. Gingerly, she placed her fingertips on her tender cheeks and winced at the sting. She was sure there would be mottled bruises in the shape of Father Ren’s wide palms by morning light.  
  
She lay awake a long while reliving their meeting and the way he had possessed over her a complete control. It seemed to her that Father Ren’s soul was split to the center, divided between heavenly pursuit and unholy passion. How he could vacillate from the detached figurehead of the orphanage, to the wretched penitent that clutched at her feet, to the insatiable lion he had become tonight, she did not understand. She only knew that the more she was near him, the more she longed to lose herself in his towering frame and become engulfed by the inferno of need between them.  
  
Rey wondered what he was doing now that she had left him alone. Was he - what was the phrase he used - touching himself? Half of her punishment was to think of him, and that was almost laughable, for she had not _stopped_ thinking of him since her first stolen vision that stormy night. She could no sooner forget his warm hands sliding across her smooth skin than she could forget her own name. Lying face down on his lap, her legs flailing uselessly off the ground as he had his way with her was at once terrifying and thrilling. She had never dreamed she could find so much pleasure in pain, but he wove them together seamlessly in a dizzying erotic tapestry.  
  
Her thighs clenched reflexively and met the cool wetness of her bloomers. The longer she thought of Father Ren, with his shining black hair and his bitten lips, the more she came to understand the second part of her punishment. Never before had she a reason to want to explore her own body; it had always simply been a vehicle to her, a means to an end. But the relentless ache he created with his roaming hands showed no signs of abating even once those hands were gone.  
  
She longed to know the secrets he had warned her against seeking. Could her own body truly bring her as much ecstasy as his touch had done? And what did he mean by “a great crescendo?” It was all very confusing, but pricked at her curiosity just the same. Perhaps just a few small touches couldn’t hurt. After all, he wasn’t here to see and would never have to know.  
  
Rey pulled her nightgown up to her navel and then slipped her right hand into the waistband of her bloomers. Her palm rested on her hollowed stomach as she felt the peaks and valleys of her ebbing breath.  
  
Gradually she reached lower, until her fingertips tickled against the fine carpeting of pubic hair covering her mound. Nearer to the bottom, the curls became damp. She held her breath, uncertain of what to do next. Rey flexed her fingers, hooking her middle digit into the dimple of her slit. As she did so, the plump lips stretched tightly upward and she felt a little stab of pleasure. Pushing further, she found that her fingers soon became slick and glided easily over the swollen petals below. She closed her eyes and imagined it was his fingers searching and spreading her before his hungry gaze.  
  
At that thought, her pussy twitched and her toes pulled into a curl. Was this the feeling Father Ren spoke of? It was satisfying to be sure, but not quite the way he had described. Rey wasn’t convinced she could give that to herself, but hoped desperately he would someday show her how.  
  
At last her eyes grew heavy and the throbbing between her legs dulled to an easy pulse. Her consciousness gave way to dreams that would all evaporate under the yellow scrutiny of day.  
    

* * *

Rose was attempting to shake Rey awake but Rey simply groaned and swatted at her friend’s hand.  
  
“Rey, the Supreme Mother will be here for dress check any moment! You must get out of bed!” Rose implored.  
  
The other girls were already clothed for the day and kneeling dutifully by their beds for prayer, although a few had one eye open to peek at the unfolding commotion.  
  
Rey yawned, stretching her back in a cat-like arch. She allowed Rose to tug her up to sitting as she sleepily rubbed her eyes. It hadn’t been more than two hours since she had finally met with slumber, and her body felt stiff with exhaustion.  
  
“Alright Rose, I’m awake,” Rey murmured, contradicted by her heavy eyelids.  
  
Just then the girls heard swift and decisive footfall on the staircase. The attic door swung open to reveal the scowling face of Sister Phasma, her icy blue eyes flashing beneath her wimple.  
  
Rose lowered her gaze to the floor and Rey froze on the edge of her bed.  
  
“Rey Kenobi! Rose Tico! What insolence is this? Nearly half past seven and still lazing in bed, when you should be on your knees!” Phasma’s tone made the hairs on the back of Rey’s neck stand at attention.  
  
“Forgive us, Reverend Mother we are so —” Rose began submissively, but her words were cut off by the snap of Phasma’s hickory switch against her upper arm. Rey saw Rose wince at the sting and she hung her head lower, guilt roiling in her empty stomach.  
  
“Quiet, girl, enough of your excuses. And you, Miss Kenobi, you are wearing my patience. I would have expected better from one in your _situation_ ,” she distastefully spat the last word. The Reverend Mother’s disapproving stare could have melted the skin from Rey’s face if she looked too long.  
  
Rey’s blood pounded in her ears. The other wards, except for Rose, knew nothing about the extension she had been granted and she would prefer to keep it that way.  
  
“I can see I’ll get nowhere with kindness, so perhaps I should try a different approach. Can anyone recite for me Proverbs 13:24?” She turned her attention to Jessika, who stood watching from the corner.  
  
“Miss Pava?” Phasma arched one blonde eyebrow expectantly.  
  
Jessika cleared her throat. “Ah… ‘He that spareth his rod hateth his son: But he who loves him chasteneth him betimes.’”  
  
“Amen, Miss Pava.” She turned again to Rose and Rey. “Ladies, bend over please.”  
  
As Rey turned to kneel at the foot of the bed, bent at the waist with her backside toward Phasma, she caught Rose’s eye. Rose glared at her and Rey silently mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ But though she felt terribly about rousing the Supreme Mother’s ire toward her best friend, Rose’s grudge was the least of her worries when she felt the first burning swing of Phasma’s switch.  
  
The whip of the branch on her already-welted skin was excruciating, and Rey clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her yelp. By the fifth lash tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, and each of the five lashes after were punctuated by smothered sobs.  
  
Beside her, Rose took her punishment in silence, though she stared quizzically at Rey. Phasma was not known to make her point gently, but she was no sadist. Rey had since squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t notice her friend’s confusion at her heightened distress.  
  
With a last flick of the wrist, Phasma finished her correction. Cooly, she informed the two kneeling girls that they would have no breakfast, for there were still morning prayers to perform. With that she led the rest of the wards downstairs, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Rose looked as though she wanted to speak, but not wishing to invite any more trouble, simply steepled her hands and began reciting her daily intercessions.  
  
After prayers, Rey stood to dress. Although Rose was already presentable and now free to join the others, she stayed to wait for her friend. Rey was grateful that Rose’s anger seemed to melt as fast as it came.  
  
“Rey…” Rose began cautiously, “Is everything alright? You have seemed so preoccupied this past week.”  
  
“I’m truly sorry for getting you into trouble, Rose.” Rey looked down at her feet. Not only was she bound to secrecy by Father Ren, but she wasn’t sure Rose could ever understand. They shared the burden of tragic pasts and many long years spent together at the abbey, but the thing that separated them had always been piety.  
  
Rey had the instincts of a survivor. She memorized her verses and said her mea culpas because it was the best way to blend in and get by as she counted the days until her life could begin. Oh, there was a certain comfort in ritual to be sure, if only because it reminded her of her mother, and of life before St. Jedi. But she had found long ago that relying on God to save you was the surest way to let yourself drown. Her hope for the future rested in her own ability to work hard and stay strong, not in prophecies or prayers.  
  
Rose, on the other hand, loved life at the abbey. She was a true believer, and Rey knew she planned to join a convent once she came of age. Her faith seemed to come from some invisible wellspring Rey would never drink from, though she sometimes wished she could. If Rose knew the reason for Rey’s absent-mindedness, it would break the girl’s heart. She could never burden her friend’s conscience with that.  
  
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been so fretful over leaving the abbey. All this time it was the thing I wanted most, but now that it’s here I don’t know what to do. After what happened to mother…Rose, I can’t go to a workhouse. I just can’t.” Rey knew the best lies held a kernel of truth. It wasn’t a complete falsehood, which made the guilt a little easier to bear.  
  
Rose’s gentle eyes filled with empathy and she nodded, cupping her hand around Rey’s shoulder. “The Lord will show you the way.”  
  
With a half smile, Rey nodded and began to remove her nightgown to finish dressing. Quickly she shimmied out of her dirty bloomers and reached for the lid of the trunk where her spare pair was kept. She froze at the sound of Rose’s sharp gasp.  
  
“Rey! What happened to you?” The alarm rang clear in her voice.  
  
_She had completely forgotten about the bruises!_  
  
“Erm...what do you mean, Rose?” Rey tried to feign ignorance.  
  
“Your backside, Rey! It’s nearly purple,” Rose covered her mouth with her hands.  
  
“It is?” Rey reached behind her to touch her skin, knowing full well what she would find there. She made a show of wincing.  
  
“I guess Sister Phasma is to blame,” she said pointedly, hoping Rose wouldn’t question further. Stepping into her clean small-clothes, she pulled them over her behind, careful not to let the waistband snap against her stinging skin. She finished with her brown woolen gown, thin white stockings and ankle boots whose soles were treading through.  
  
“Ready to go?” She asked Rose brightly, still avoiding her friend’s obvious skepticism at how such a routine discipline could cause such swift and sensational bruising.  
  
“As well we should,” Rose mumbled, and the two young women descended the stairs.  
                      

* * *

To Kylo’s great astonishment, he had slept soundly until awoken by the prayer bell. Never before had he sated his lust without the accompanying hammer of guilt that followed. It was unbelievable to him that not one moment while he was with Rey had he thought of his Aunt’s past retribution or worse still, of God’s. Even after she had left him, breathless and smoldering with desire, he had felt only a sort of satisfaction that his crudely made orgasms could never provide.  
  
When he had resolved in his mind to accept her offer, he had resolved too to shoulder the burden of shame it would bring. He had already lived with its weight for more than twenty years, until he was sure he would be crushed beneath the unrelenting strain. Some days had been good ones. Some days, he had no thoughts of his phantom hell-siren and the thrill of her sordid songs. Some days he didn't wonder what it would be like to tease his fingers across warm plush curves and watch as he made her come undone. But most days, she was there, whispering to him from the darkest places of his mind and beckoning him endlessly to temptation. If he resisted, he felt pious yet strangely hollow, like half of a man. If he gave in, he felt like less than half; like he was worth nothing to anyone, least of all to God.  
  
If this was his curse, then, to suffer an endless hunger and yet castigate himself for desiring the fruit, why shouldn’t he at least be allowed to savor the sweet juice? Thus he had resigned himself to fight back in a way he had never considered - to channel his lust into one source, and be done with the endless arrows from a thousand bows. Whatever the price he would pay in regret, the reward of regaining his focus would surely outweigh it.  
  
Yet against all reason, in place of thundering damnation he felt a cleansing calm. It was as though warring against his manhood had only left him weakened, while giving in had renewed his strength. The clouds of self-doubt had lifted for the first time in ages, and he hadn’t even gotten release.  
  
Oh, it had been difficult at the end. No fantasy could compare to feeling the heat of Rey’s blushing bottom as he both punished and pleasured her needy body. Hearing her delicious whimpers with her warm stomach pressed to his cock had made him so hard it was painful. But what had nearly sent him over the edge, to gush while still inside his breeches, was the wanton way she first squirmed from his touch then arched her back to present her ass for another paddling. The memory of her desperate pleas for him to remove her knickers made his mouth water. He was fully erect again just thinking of it. Saints preserve him, that girl was going to be his beautiful death.  
  
Now that the curtain had begun to drop and his knowledge of flesh-on-flesh was not merely theoretical, he knew that conjured images would never again suffice. Rey was so much more than an adolescent fantasy. He was in awe of her very life force. She was equally brave and meek, equally vulnerable and strong. How he wished to be more like her, this little orphan from Old Jakku. She had been wiser than he, for all his education and training, in seeing that a burden shared is a burden lessened. What other lessons might he discover at the temple of her body? He had a feeling he would soon find out.  
  
First, though, he had work to do - real work. He had no illusions about his flaws, but God had used flawed men time and time again to bring about His glory. Kylo loved the abbey and the mission they had been called to, and he couldn’t let his shortcomings as a leader bring about its ruin.  
  
Persuading Hux to take Rey on as his governess was a hope for the short term, but he couldn’t rely on hope alone. Rey had reached the end of her time at the abbey, but the next oldest girl, Paige Tico, had a full year before she would come of age. The rest of the wards ranged in age from six to sixteen, and would depend on St. Jedi to remain open for much longer than Hux’s donation would support.  
  
While girls sometimes began searching for vocation as young as fifteen, many others chose to stay under the protective wing of the Church as long as possible. Here they were subject to strict discipline, but so too were they given warm meals, moral guidance, and an education. There were so many more unfortunates than St. Jedi could take in, and the lucky few who were knew a female orphan could never fare better on the streets.  
  
Although it hardly seemed the time to consider it, given their dire straits, Kylo’s truest wish would be for the orphanage to one day expand to address the growing need in the city. War, pestilence, and all manner of cruelties awaited beyond the safety of the abbey, and he felt it was his divine call to offer what sanctuary he could. But such a call would require that the Church increase the revenue it set aside for St. Jedi, and convincing them to do this would be no easy task. Still, if he was to prove himself worthy of the duty God had entrusted to him, Kylo felt he had to try.  
  
Pushing his daydreams aside, Kylo knelt by his bed to begin his morning prayers. He had much to bring before the Lord.

 

* * *

Each morning while the wards took their breakfast of porridge and boiled eggs harvested from the abbey’s scraggly flock of chickens, the clergy would meet in private. They prayed for the Lord’s guidance over their young charges, and brought forth any matters relevant to the Orphanage’s overseeing.  
  
When everyone had assembled, Kylo made the sign of the cross and began the daily ritual. They sat in practiced silence until he said “Amen,” and then dug into their own bowls of steaming porridge.  
  
Kylo lightly clinked his spoon to his bowl to call their attention.  
  
“Brothers and Sisters, Reverend Mother, I have been in deep prayer and must share with you what the Lord has laid upon my heart,” he began somberly. “As you are aware, the Orphanage has suffered greatly from the decline in funding these past many months. Though you have nobly bore this sacrifice as Our Father demands, as Rector I believe it is my duty to find a way forward for the precious souls we are called to lead.”  
  
Every eye was upon him. They had all noticed their Reverend Father’s spirit wilting like ivy in too much sunlight during the trials of this year, but he spoke now with a renewed conviction.  
  
Kylo continued, “I announced last week that we would be selecting a ward to present to Admiral Hux as a suitable governess. The invitation to the Admiral is even now making its way toward his estate and I expect to receive a reply by the full moon. I have placed my faith in God that Admiral Hux will be persuaded by our bond of friendship and by the strength of your training evident in our wards. Yet even with Hux’s boon, St. Jedi cannot weather another year unless we find some second path.”  
  
“The Lord will provide, Father Ren. Does He not care for us more than the sparrows?” The Reverend Mother replied, evoking Scripture as was her way.  
  
“So He does, Reverend Mother. God has been merciful to us to allow our work to continue in such dire circumstance. Yet I believe He has also challenged me to be the leader the abbey needs. My attention to the mission and to our wards has been woefully inadequate, and for that I beg His forgiveness. It is my hope that with renewed dedication, and extra care given to our charges, we can convince the Church to increase our allocation and thereby remain solvent.”  
  
“How can that be given which does not exist? The scourge of war has robbed much from our Holy Church,” Father Storm interjected.  
  
Father Ren inclined his head to acknowledge the point but pressed forward with certainty, “It is a matter of priorities, Father Storm. In times of turmoil, the Church has no greater duty than to train up a new generation of the faithful. It is our shining testimony in a darkened world. For is it not written, ‘Whoever heard me spoke well of me, and those who saw me commended me, because I rescued the poor who cried for help, and the fatherless who had none to assist them?’”  
  
The others nodded slightly, and he could see he was gaining their support.  
  
“To this end, I would like to propose some changes. As the appointed shepherd of St. Jedi, I feel I should assume all duties of the holy mass and of confession going forward. In addition, I will be conducting private inquiries with each girl who may be eligible to be chosen by Admiral Hux. Once a ward is selected, I will work closely with her to personally oversee that she is prepared for the task of representing St. Jedi as a beacon of Godly vocation for young women. Until Admiral Hux makes his appearance, this will be our focus. Afterward, we will turn our attention to presenting our other wards before the Monsignor to petition for greater funding. If His Grace is permitted to meet our charges, he will surely see how the Lord is doing great things at St. Jedi and will relay our worth to the Church.”  
  
Kylo finished, holding his breath slightly. It was of the utmost importance that his fellow clergy accept his proposal, for it would serve both of his ends: to have more time alone with Rey, and to prepare for a future beyond her.  
  
Sister Kanata, who had always been so generous in her support of Kylo, was the first to speak. “It seems a narrow path, Reverend Father, yet when has the way to truth ever been broad? If this is the will of the Lord as related to us by you, His servant, we can hardly refuse. After all, God helps those who helps themselves.”  
  
One by one, the clergy murmured in agreement. Kylo smiled and felt an incredible lightness, lovely and foreign, rising in his chest.  
                   

* * *

Rey sat in the pews of the sanctuary, with Rose on her right and Jessika on her left. The wards had been gathered to assembly, and they whispered excitedly among themselves. Everyone was eager to hear more about the governess position and what it would mean for the chosen ward. Admiral Hux was a decorated war hero and his fame reached even to rural parishes like this one. Each girl imagined what it would be like to live on his coastal estate, surrounded by servants and splendor. While the station of governess was a far echo from nobility, it was nevertheless an honor beyond the wildest dreams of a street born orphan. Admiral Hux was rumored to be quite handsome to wit, and recently widowed. A few days ago, Rey herself would have found this prospect thrilling, but now when she tried to picture her future husband, a tall dark figure kept obscuring her vision. Nevertheless, simply knowing that she would have the opportunity to enter society not as a pauper slaving over a spinning wheel, but as a mentor to children of distinction, was making her swell with pride.  
  
The other clergy were seated on the dais, when Father Ren made his appearance from the side entrance by the altar. He had recently shaven and his cassock flowed around him in inky waves as he walked. His posture was arrow straight, and sleep had restored the color to his features. His thick jet hair framed his face like a halo, brushing his sharp cheekbones as he strode forward. Even his scar appeared noble, like brilliant lightning among the dotted stars of his soft moles. A magnificent ivory crucifix hung from his neck and his sleeves were trimmed in blood red silk.  
  
He was resplendent, and it stole Rey’s breath to look at him. Unbidden, the image of herself lying prone over his lap as his massive hands tormented her deliciously came suddenly to her mind. A hot flush creeped from her ears to her cheeks and down to her chest. She stole a glance at Rose to see if she was noticed, which had the unfortunate effect of making herself that much less inconspicuous. Their gaze met sidelong, and Rose’s brow furrowed a moment until Rey forced her eyes back to the front of the dais. She avoided looking at Father Ren, however, instead staring past him to Sister Holdo’s willowy frame.  
  
Ren approached the pulpit. “My dear children, let us pray.” He led the congregation in a short prayer for wisdom. Rey bowed her head but kept her eyes open, soaking in the way Kylo’s long eyelashes swept his cheeks as he prayed. A tugging urge to press her lips to those eyelids pulled in her belly.  
  
The prayer concluded and he cleared his throat to speak. “There is nothing more precious to God than a child, and no duty more sacred than to raise that child into a servant of the Lord. This is our responsibility to you, our charges. For your part, we ask obedience and attention, that you may learn from your elders and grow in wisdom. I shared with you some days ago that Admiral Hux of the Empire Armada would be paying us a visit to meet you, and to choose among you a woman worthy to be a governess for his household. Thus that holy duty of rearing Godly children would be passed into your hands. You can see, therefore, why we would take this call with the utmost sobriety. The ward who is selected must conduct herself with honor and piety. This is why I will be personally overseeing the selection of the candidate by way of inquiries with those of you who are of appropriate age. Furthermore, the chosen ward will receive extra guidance from my hand to ensure readiness to receive the Admiral. Those of you who are being considered, count yourselves fortunate and give all the glory to God.”  
  
Animated chatter echoed from the pews, until the Supreme Mother stood from her seat and silenced the lot.  
  
Father Ren produced a small parchment from his sleeve. Rey could have sworn he looked directly at her as he read the names. “The wards who will be considered are: Paige Tico, Kaydel Connix, and Rey Kenobi. I will begin the inquiries this afternoon. Miss Tico, please see me during your leisure hour.”  
  
Rey felt a rush of ice shoot through her veins. “ _Paige Tico? Kaydel Connix_ ?” Her brain screamed. The other wards were being dismissed to resume lessons, and Rey stumbled numbly behind them. Was Father Ren lying when he said he would recommend only her for the position? Had he manipulated her into compromising her purity in exchange for a false promise? Or worse, had he changed his mind after witnessing her shameful display in his study? Then the very worst thought of all bubbled up like curdled milk: would Father Ren touch Paige and Kaydel the way he had touched her?  
  
There would be no sleeping again tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have a little rain before the rainbow... (didn’t Matt the Radar Tech say that??) 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads, comments and kudos and thank you to my sweet IRL Reylos who encourage me everyday.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey confronts Father Ren and gets more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overcome by your  
> Moving temple  
> Overcome by this  
> Holiest of altars  
> So pure  
> So rare  
> To witness such an earthly goddess  
> That I’ve lost my self-control  
> I’d sell  
> My soul  
> My self-esteem one dollar at a time  
> Once chance  
> One kiss  
> One taste of you my Magdalena  
> \- A Perfect Circle

  
  


Two days passed and the sting of Rey’s bruises had begun to fade but the ache in her spirit grew stronger. The afternoon following his meeting with Paige, Father Ren had called Kaydel to his study while the other wards took their hour of leisure. Rey inquired of Rose whether Paige had spoken about her time with Ren but she had nothing to report. Rose simply said that Paige was of two minds: reluctant to leave her sister behind, yet excited for the chance to join such a prestigious household. 

  
Rey tried to distract herself by posting more solicitation letters on her own behalf, and by spending time in the abbey gardens. It was her favorite place at St. Jedi. Shielded by hedgerows, it provided a private place to dream or to cry, whichever the day had demanded. There the nuns grew roses so red they seemed to drip blood, proud columns of foxglove, and lacy hollyhock like angel’s wings. She felt at peace among the flowers which returned year after year, bearing harsh winters to faithfully seek the sun. It reminded her that life went on and could be beautiful, in spite of every strife.  
  
She was kneeling to examine an anemone, admiring its rich crimson petals, when a shadow blotted the daylight from her eyes.  
  
“Anemones signal anticipation,” Father Ren’s smooth baritone rolled from behind her back.  
  
Without turning, she stood, ripping the flower from its stem. “They also stand for forsaken love.” She crushed the blossom in her hand, letting it drop as she strode toward the opening of the hedgerow.  
  
A powerful grip captured her wrist, pulling her back. She wheeled to look him in the face, her features contorted in anger. “Let me go!”  
  
He glanced quickly around to determine whether they were alone. “What’s come over you, Rey? I came to fetch you for your inquiry.”  
  
“My inquiry? Is that what you’re naming the things that happened in your study? I am not in the mood, but perhaps Paige or Kaydel would fancy a go,” she spat back indignantly, not bothering to keep her voice down.  
  
He was angry now too, she could see from his set jaw and narrowed eyes. Yet he kept it simmering below the surface, acutely aware they could be overheard.  
  
He closed the distance between them at a disarming rate, and reaching out, grasped Rey’s tiny chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting her head to meet his eyes, he stared down intensely and unblinking. A pulse passed between them, nearly knocking the fight out of Rey. There was an invisible heat which seemed to flow directly from his touch to her center, calling to the soft animal within. Swallowing roughly, she steeled herself and remembered that she was no one’s toy to discard with changing fancy.  
  
“Little one…when you promised to submit yourself to me, that meant submitting your trust as well. Do you wish to be relinquished from that promise?” Kylo’s voice was earnest, with no trace of beguile.  
  
Rey broke their stare, her eyes cutting left. She was sullen, giving nothing.  
  
Still cradling her chin, his thumb traced gently over her pouting bottom lip. His tenderness was salt stinging in the wound of his betrayal.  
  
She jerked hotly away from his grasp, although she could feel her temper begin folding into grief.  
  
“You did not honor your part of the bargain. You said you would make a way for me with the Admiral, and that you would fix your appetites solely upon me.” Struggling against his penetrating gaze that breached all her defenses, she wanted to wound him, to regain the upper hand. “You’re a monster,” she added venomously.  
  
To her shock, he did not flinch. “Yes I am.” A heartbeat passed. “But you made me less of one. If you wish to be free of me, I won’t stop you — and I could not blame you — but I have kept faith just as I swore. Whatever power I have in the matter, the position is yours.”  
  
Her eyes softened and she felt a prick of remorse for her sharp tongue. “Then why did you meet with the other girls - in _private_ ?”  
  
He shook his head, seeming more hurt by the implication than he had been by her insults. “Do you not realize, Little Lamb, that as Rector I must appear fully impartial? That to choose a single ward not on her merits but on secret accords would arouse more suspicion than either you or I could weather? As for my…appetites, as you call them…I have flayed myself in the face of God Almighty for more than fifteen years. If it was a whore I wanted I would not have come seeking at a convent.”  
  
Rey held her head stiffly and locked her eyes again with his, noticing how they shimmered with flecks of gold.  
  
“What _do_ you want, Kylo?” She pressed, disposing of his honorific. She was asking for his barest self.  
  
Kylo stepped forward again, looking down the wide distance between their heights. He was so close she felt the coolness of his exhale ghost her face. “I want you, my Mary Magdalene. Just you.”  
  
She had been a fool to doubt him. There was something undeniable now, something intrinsic, that held them together like links of a chain. Whether it was prison or paradise, she hardly knew or cared.  
  
Gently he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Meet me upstairs, Rey. There is still the matter of your atonement to discuss.” 

* * *

  
When he had locked the door, he turned to face her. She was on her knees with her head bowed, just as he instructed. He smiled, feeling pride and desire mingling in his belly. “ _In here you will always kneel, until I command you otherwise_ ,” he had told her, and she obeyed as though she were born to it. She had a rebellious streak, his wicked girl, that cried out to be brought to heel. Yet with a firm hand to guide her, she would find freedom in serving, just as Kylo had. How lucky he was that it would be him receiving this precious gift.  
  
He walked around her in a slow circle, observing her loveliness from every angle. Her chestnut hair was parted down the center, intricate braids winding from each side of her head to join behind, exposing the soft nape of her neck. Her unblemished skin seemed to glow in the midday sunlight streaming from the study window, as though heaven itself had shown her favor. There was a slight flush of color in her apple cheeks and in her petal lips.  
  
He wanted to press kisses to her mouth until their pink was slick and swollen and the peach of her cheeks turned crimson. He wanted to ruin her, to take her apart piece by piece and then put her together again. He wanted to see her debauched and shameless, reveling in carnal delight. He would pour all his sins, all his darkness, into this perfect vessel, and come away sanctified. Kylo shuddered at the violence of his need for her and for this lurid treaty they had made.  
  
“You have disobeyed me, Miss Kenobi. I am thoroughly disappointed,” he told her, the commanding edge returning to his voice.  
  
“How have I displeased you, Father?” She had the gall to ask, pretending that her innocence would save her.  
  
“I gave you three rules. One, to submit yourself fully. Two, to give no hint of our private meetings. Three, to let me know the instant you needed reprieve. You saw fit to break the first two rules not even a day after I enacted them. Do you deny it?” He had stopped in front of her now, but she did not have leave to meet his eyes so he spoke to her bowed head.  
  
“I beg your forgiveness for my distrust of you, Father, but I have not spoken a word to anyone of our arrangement. How then did I break the second rule?”  
  
“There are more ways to speak than with your words, Sweetling. The moment I came to the pulpit at your assembly, you blushed brighter than an unveiled bride. You must never forget that keen eyes are upon us.” Kylo reached down to stroke the back of his hand against her smooth cheek. “Still…I must admit, seeing your lovely face hot with shame did awaken in me quite the stirring. I might be persuaded to overlook these failings as a matter of inexperience, provided you kept our other oath.”  
  
“Our other oath, Father?” She asked warily.  
  
“Yes, my child, or have you forgotten so soon? And you accused _me_ of being false in the garden.” He laughed sarcastically. “Look at me, Rey, and tell me true: did you think of me while we were apart? Did you touch yourself?”  
  
Rey lifted her eyes to meet his gaze as he commanded and he sucked in a sharp breath. He could so easily lose himself in the bursts of amber and forest green he saw there, with their sultry feline shape.  
  
She blinked a few times in rapid succession, and spluttered pinched noises that weren’t quite words. “I…well I…” she stammered, looking thoroughly ashamed.  
  
He knew then that he had her just where he wanted her, just where she belonged. Kylo clucked his tongue. This wanton girl seemed to almost beg for more punishment, with her blatant disregard for his rules. He was only too pleased to deliver what she craved.  
  
“Miss Kenobi. I intended to call you here today, fully prepared to give you a sweet reward for your long suffering and for your obedience. Yet at every turn you cry out for penance. I think your body betrays you, sweet girl. As hard as you try to be good, there is an ache for rough treatment that you cannot deny.” His fingertip was tracing a line from her earlobe down to her collar now, leaving fire in its wake.  
  
“Very well, Little Lamb. Ask and you shall receive. Stand up please.”  
  
She stood to her feet, though her legs trembled slightly. Whether in fear or in anticipation, who could say?  
  
Kylo gestured with a slight nod, “Sit on the desk, Miss Kenobi, right in front there.”  
  
Rey’s brows pinched in confusion, but she did as he asked. Supporting her weight on the heels of her palms, she pushed herself off the ground and onto the desk. Her feet dangled below her, and the unyielding wood pressed into her still slightly-sore backside. The hem of her frock rose just above her ankle, exposing her black boots.  
  
“Good girl. Now show me what you did,” Kylo commanded.  
  
“Father? Show you…?” She clearly did not understand his request.  
  
Dark amusement played slightly on his upturned mouth. “Yes, Rey. Show me how you touched yourself.”  
  
She gasped, her eyes widening with shock. “I can’t show you that. Please, isn’t there something else you want?”  
  
Kylo advanced, placing his hands on her knees and pushing them apart. The fabric of her dress fell between her legs, highlighting the empty space created. He met her blushing gaze with his barely checked hunger. “Do you wish to say your word Rey?”  
  
He could see that she was struggling by her hesitation, but perhaps because of her earlier disappointments, she at last said in a small voice, “No, Father.”  
  
Rey slowly pulled her dress up, showing the white of her stockings on her shins. She kept lifting it higher, to her knee, until at last the first peek of creamy skin came into view at the stocking’s edge.  
  
Kylo drank in every moment, saliva pooling under his tongue. His body felt tense as a bowstring, knowing that a strange new country was about to open its gates to him.  
  
She almost stopped when the dress reached the junction of her thighs, even though he had already seen her bloomers once before. This felt different to them both, and Kylo knew it, for this time it was Rey who had to reveal herself and not have it “forced” from her control. This time the bloomers would not stay, and her modesty could not remain concealed.  
  
She drew a steadying breath and continued, rucking the dress up high around her waist. Rey tried to slip her little fingers underneath the waistband of her small clothes, but Kylo shook his head. He would accept no lesser pantomime of how she touched herself in the dark - it had to be in the full light of his gaze.  
  
Rey turned her head to the side, no longer able to watch as he leered with male delight. She hooked two thumbs into her bloomers, and lifting her weight from alternate sides in turn, began to shimmy them down her buttocks and thighs. Her eyes were shut tightly and the hot flush of her cheeks had now fully invaded her neck and chest.  
  
Kylo could not help the raw grunt of pleasure that escaped his lips when she had at last pushed her underwear past her knees to hang loosely at her calves. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, the most beautiful thing in heaven or on earth.  
  
Her thighs trembled slightly from their widespread stance, gooseflesh covering her milky skin. Below the flat expanse of her heaving belly there was a thatch of dark curls shading a gentle mound. And below the mound? That was like staring at the radiance of the sun. His breath grew shallow, and his blood pounded a primal rhythm in his dizzy head and his engorged cock. It stood proudly from his cassock like a spear ready to be driven into virgin earth to claim new territory. And God, how he wanted to stake that claim.  
  
Before he had entered seminary school, Kylo’s formal education had introduced him to a study of anatomy and biology. He had wanted at one time to be a doctor, before his Aunt pressed him into the priesthood. He knew what he was seeing when he looked upon Rey’s vulva, but medical drawings could not have prepared him for a woman warm and wanting. He stared with naked lust, committing every detail of her feminine secrets to precious memory.  
  
Her lower lips were plump and pink, folded demurely like a prayer around a second pair with a darker hue. The two sets together were crowned by a narrow fleshy hood that hid a hardened nub, like a shy pearl. Below all, there was a glistening entrance to her tiny womb, already dripping slick onto his desk. The most animal impulses jolted through him at the sight and filthy images flashed behind his eyes.  
  
A single tear of shame was rolling down Rey’s cheek, her head still turned away. He reached out gently to catch it at her chin, bringing his finger to his mouth to taste the salt. His voice was low and thick. “Rey…you are divine. Don’t be afraid, my lovely girl. God made you absolutely perfect in every way.”  
  
She managed to straighten her posture at his words, and he noticed that her little cunt twitched. His cock throbbed insistently, begging for the chance to fulfill its purpose. He reached down to adjust its seat in his small clothes, relieving some of the enormous pressure building there.  
  
Kylo spoke in a reverent whisper, in rapt wonder of the enticing display before him. “Now show me, Little Lamb, how you pleasured yourself.”  
  
His eyes never left her rosy sex as Rey slowly brought her hand between her legs. She tugged upward on her lower lips by hooking her finger into the dimple between them, just as she had that evening. Then she stroked her fingers light as a butterfly’s touch over her wet folds. Her breath grew ragged and her hand stilled, having finished her reenactment.  
  
“Did you feel it, Rey? The crescendo of pleasure?”  
  
Rey’s flush impossibly deepened. “I don’t know, Father. How can I tell?”  
  
Kylo was endlessly amazed at her perfect innocence, contrasted with her wanton curiosity. “You would know if you had, my wicked girl. It’s just as well. As I told you, I want to look upon your face when you feel your rapture taking over.”  
  
Kylo knelt down between her legs and cupped her tiny sex in his large hand. Her skin was so warm and soft, more tender than he could have ever dreamed. With his thumb and his forefinger, he gently spread apart her lips, staring intensely at the slick opening they protected. She jumped slightly at his touch and with his other hand he stroked her knee comfortingly. His expression was part hunger, part awe. This was the gift God had given to Adam. This was what he had denied himself all those years and hated himself for wanting. And this was Rey’s most precious offering to him, an unworthy sinner. He was overwhelmed by her beauty.  
  
Tracing gingerly with his thumb, he made a semi circle in the crevice between the outer and inner lips, up over the top of the hood, and down into the crevice on the other side. He took note of the way her body shuddered with pleasure when he grazed the top of the hood. On the next pass, he held the pad of his thumb there, pressing lightly and feeling a hardness beneath. The little pearl which peeked from under seemed to swell, and Rey’s head was lolled back now as she tried earnestly to stifle her moans.  
  
Kylo was fascinated. He took deep breaths and was becoming intoxicated by the scent of her arousal. The more he rubbed near the hard nub, the more Rey twisted her hips and the more her opening gushed onto the wood below.  
  
Enthralled, he stuck the pinky of his opposite hand straight out, and placed it at the entrance of her slit. He knew from his studies this could make Rey bleed when done for the first time, and the last thing he desired was to cause her real pain. As his thumb stroked slowly over the fleshy hood, he gingerly began to push his pinky into her body.  
  
Even around his smallest finger, her virgin walls hugged tightly. Her insides were scorchingly hot and so deliciously slick. She raised her hand to her mouth to cover her cry when she felt the tip of his finger enter. Her breath was a hiss so Kylo went even slower, letting her adjust to this strange new sensation. When her breathing stilled, he resumed the small circles over her nub and twisted his pinky in an easy corkscrew until the lips of her sex brushed his last knuckle.  
  
Kylo felt his balls draw close to his body and his thighs clench in an effort to stall his climax. The lurid sight of his gorgeous Miss Kenobi with her legs splayed open on his desk, in full daylight, knowing they could be caught, while he probed and explored her virgin body was overtaking his faculties. Yet he bit down on his tongue, letting the pain buy him some precious moments until he could watch her come undone for the first time.  
  
He quickened his stroking of the hood, brushing directly against the little nub now as his thumb swooped down, and at the same time his opposite hand withdrew and pushed forward inside her again and again. Her juices were sliding down the palm of his hand, and he felt her heated muscles fluttering around him.  
  
He looked to her expression, every bit as radiant as he had dreamed it would be. Stray wisps of her silken hair had fallen about her face, which was covered in a glistening sheen. Her eyes were closed tightly, not from shame now but from ecstasy, and her full lips were pursed to a kiss. She made mewling sounds like the sweetest of kittens, needy whimpers and throaty moans in turn. It was driving him absolutely mad.  
  
Kylo withdrew his pinky finger from her body and reached hurriedly beneath his cassock to free his aching cock. Rey still had her eyes shut, but opened them when she heard the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh. Her sight fell instantly to the swollen purple head and her face now registered jolted shock.  
  
Kylo jerked his hand along his length at the same time that he kept his left hand on her sensitive clit, and at once gave it a pinch, simultaneous to her first sight of his cock. The combination shot through Rey like holy lightning. Her legs stiffened at the knee, head fallen back and efforts to remain quiet forgotten.  
  
“OHHHHH… OH GOD!” she screamed, her pink cunt quivering again and again.  
  
Kylo removed his hand from her clit and clamped it instead over her mouth to snuff out the noise, and he felt the lust boiling to eruption within him. His own orgasm came like glass shattering, semen shooting in an arc through the air to splatter against Rey’s gown. Cum pooled around his tightening fist, and he groaned and shivered as the last waves passed through.  
  
His fingers were still held against her lips, and he felt her huffing air forcefully against the back of his hand. Removing it, she gasped for breath and crumpled forward weakly. He lifted his body a few inches upward to catch her in his arms. Rey rested her head against the crook of his neck, murmuring something he could not make out. Kylo closed his eyes as her sweet scent of lavender enveloped him. It was so quiet he heard the rhythm of their hearts beating. He stroked her hair gently with his clean hand, turning the other at his wrist so he didn’t stain her gown further.  
  
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he found himself saying as the comedown continued its descent. What was this feeling blooming in his chest? It was a kind of stillness, of being present and fulfilled. He had only experienced anything that compared when he was communing with the Holy God, and that thought at once amazed and frightened him.  
  
When Rey had stopped shuddering in his arms, he brushed a kiss against her forehead and carefully readjusted her onto the desk. She looked up at him plaintively. He stood to his feet, tucking his cock away, and moved around the desk to retrieve two items from the top drawer: a scrap of cloth, and a small blue vial.  
  
With the cloth he cleaned his hand, and dabbed at the stain on Rey’s frock. He chided himself inwardly for being so careless, but hoped it would not be too noticeable once dry.  
  
She was still looking to him for instruction, so he hid his concern and gave her a smile. “You are so lovely, Rey, and you did so wonderfully for me. It’s such a shame that I still have to punish you.”  
  
Rey’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Punish me?” She squawked. “But I thought…”  
  
Kylo’s eyes darkened. “You thought that giving you such sweet release was your punishment? Truly my dear, I know you are a clever girl. You must try to show it from time to time. No, Rey, that was simply to illuminate for you what is at stake, and what you stand to lose if you disobey me in the future. The rest of the lesson is to remind you who you belong to.”  
  
Kylo opened the vial and inserted a long finger into its mouth, reemerging covered in a clear sticky substance. Rey’s eyebrows lifted as she watched intently.  
  
He knelt once more and began to rub the jelly over her sensitive core. Having just cum, the touch itself made her flinch.  
  
“This is an ointment I borrowed from Phasma’s stores. It is used to relieve muscle aches, but when applied to the skin it first becomes heated, then slowly cools,” As he finished these words he pursed his lips and blew a concentrated stream of cold air onto her pussy. He moved his mouth up and down, first hitting her clit with the stream of air and then down to her entrance, over both sets of tender swollen lips.  
  
Rey squirmed uncontrollably as the cool air from his mouth interacted with the substance coating her sex and became an icy, maddening tingle. “Ahh, ah, ahhh” she whimpered, music to Kylo’s ears.  
  
“You see, wicked girl, whenever you move for the rest of the day, whenever you shift in your seat, you will feel these fiery prickles and remember just who owns this cunt.”  
  
He pulled her bloomers down over her ankle boots, removing them completely, knowing that more air flow would increase her anguish. Kylo brought them to his nose. Inhaling deeply he rasped, “These I shall take for safe keeping.”  
  
Rey whined, “But I still have lessons, Father. W—won’t everyone know…” Her voice dropped to a shamed whisper, “Know that I am naked?” Her expression was pleading, but it fell on deaf ears.  
  
Kylo finished by re-inserting a finger, his pointer this time, into her slick hole, depositing the last of the jelly. He only entered to his middle knuckle but she was still so wet from her orgasm, combined with the lubrication, that he slid in easily. Rey was moaning again.  
  
“Father,” she gasped, “Please have mercy on me!”  
  
Kylo raised one eyebrow in a fiendish smirk. “God may be merciful my child, but I can take whatever I want.”  
  
With that he picked her up from the desk and helped her smooth her skirts. She shifted her legs together uncomfortably.  
  
“Don’t fret, my child. If you redeem yourself today, you may come to me again at midnight for another reward.” He lightly swatted her bottom, receiving a little yelp from her in return, and walked her to the study door.  
  
Alone once more, he smiled and shook his head. Rey might have a body like sin, but Kylo was more sure than ever she was an angel in disguise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @kylrns for the wonderful Priestlo Photoshop in this chapter’s moodboard. Thank you forever to my beta. Thank YOU readers for all your support! 
> 
> This is the last chapter I have completed although I am about halfway done with 7. Updates may come a little further apart now but the story is mapped and I’m excited to finish the journey with you! A little over two weeks until the anon drops off :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone,  
> Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon  
> Show me slowly what I only know the limits of,  
> Dance me to the end of love.  
> \- Leonard Cohen

Rey could hardly remember what it was like to be focused on her lessons. Ever since she had first glimpsed Father Ren pleasuring himself, she felt possessed by a demon of lust that stole every thought from her head save his heavenly body and his hellish torment.  
  
The ointment he had applied to her sex was working its misery on her tender flesh and the needlepoint she was laboring over in vain was showing the result. She had made and remade faulty stitches at least ten times, so distracted was she by the incessant buzzing between her legs.  
  
Each time she shifted, the cool air would intrude beneath her dress, a scandalous reminder that she sat with Sister Kanata and her classmates with no undergarments. The air would change the sting of fire to one of piercing cold on her sensitive clitoris and she would bite her lip hard to keep from gasping.  
  
She could feel her inner muscles clench around nothing, seeking a stronger stimulation. When the other girls were absorbed in their work, Rey would push down her weight into her seat and try desperately to create friction to relieve her suffering. It was akin to an itch that could not be scratched, save by Father Ren’s large fingers relentlessly plunging into her depths. That thought was surely heating her cheeks even now, thwarting another fruitless effort to act with restraint.  
  
On her eleventh mistake, her frustration bubbled over and she swore impulsively under her breath. Her eyes shot immediately to Sister Kanata and she breathed a sigh of relief that the elderly nun did not hear, but she felt Rose’s disapproving stare at her side.  
  
“Rey…” Rose whispered, looking at her friend’s messy needlepoint which was normally so skillfully woven. “Rey, are you ill?”  
  
This Kanata did hear and she rapped her knuckles against the desk where she sat as a warning. Rey gave a small nod, thinking illness would be the best explanation, and returned to her labor. What reward could possibly be worth this agony? The singing pleasure he had wrought upon her seemed only a vehicle to heighten her suffering now, as she was twice as sensitive between her legs than before.  
  
At last the day’s lessons came to a close and Rey rushed to turn in her cross-stitch. Sister Kanata looked at the crooked lines of the barely half-finished result and clucked her tongue. “You shall have to do far better than this, Miss Kenobi, if you expect to earn the governess-ship. And what is that unsightly stain on your gown, child? Cleanliness is next to godliness as you well know!”  
  
Rey hung her head low and crossed her hands in front of her dress. “Forgive me, Sister Kanata, I fear I may be taking ill today. I beg your permission to go to bed without supper.”  
  
Sister Kanata’s chocolate eyes were kindly with concern. She had always been the most forgiving of the nuns at St. Jedi, for which Rey was enormously grateful. “Very well, daughter, but only this once. Shall I ask Sister Holdo to come with a remedy?”  
  
“No!” Rey blurted out, then quickly added, “That is…I would hate to trouble her, and I am sure I only need to rest. Thank you ever so much, Sister Kanata.” Rey dipped into a small curtsy, immediately regretting it as the tingles returned in full strength from the friction of her thighs. With that she hurried from the classroom and up the stairs to the attic, leaving Rose to look anxiously after her.

* * *

After dinner, Rey was lying in bed wearing her night-clothes and having put on her spare pair of bloomers. She found that the prickling was not quite so intense with her sex covered. All she could do was wait for each chime of the bell to pass and release her from this anguish.  
  
To think that barely a week ago she had known nothing of the games men play with women, of the wild and wicked feelings that could arise from within her own body, and now she was being consumed by them. She had asked to become the vessel that held Father Ren’s sins but she hadn’t understood then what she was accepting, not really. She could not have expected the way he would dominate not just her body but her mind, nor that she would crave to be with him like a drunkard craved wine. Fear and desire were her bedfellows now, and endlessly intolerable ache. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep, part of her not caring if she should wake by the midnight chime, but the larger part knowing she would again be drawn to him like a brainless moth to a bewitching flame.  
  
Her self pity was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and she looked to see Rose, sweet Rose, coming toward her with a crust of bread in her hand.  
  
Rose sat on the edge of the bed and held out her gift. “How are you feeling?” She asked in a gentle voice. “I thought you might be hungry so I snuck this out of the kitchen.”  
  
Rey took the bread with a grateful smile, holding it in one hand and clasping her arm around Rose’s shoulder with the other. “Oh Rose, you are truly too good to me.”  
  
Her friend wore a serious expression on her rounded face. “Rey, I wish you would tell me what is troubling you.”  
  
Rey chewed a mouthful of bread as way of delaying her reply. She stared at the brown crust as though it were the most interesting sight in the world, shrinking from questions she could not answer.  
  
Rose sighed heavily and tried again. “Rey, I’ve known you for many years. We have grown from girls to women in our time together. Don’t you think I can tell when you are not yourself? I had believed you held more faith in me than that.”  
  
The pained look on her dear friend’s face was twisting Rey’s stomach into knots. She knew the truth would do no one any good and yet she couldn’t let Rose feel she was being shut out.  
  
“Rose, dearest, I’m so sorry for making you fret for me. I don’t know how to tell you, because you are such an angel. Lately I feel that the devil has been tempting me and no matter how much I pray and seek forgiveness, I find myself caught in a web of sins. Please don’t ask more of me, Rose. I love you, I truly do, but I’m too ashamed to speak further.” Rey folded her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting.  
  
“Oh Rey, to be tempted to sin is our mortal condition. You needn’t suffer with it alone. I’m sorry I pressed you to tell me, but I do think you would feel better unburdening yourself. Have you spoken to Father Ren about it in confession?”  
  
Rey’s heart beat against her chest like a caged dove. “F-Father Ren? Oh, um…no. I mean, yes, I should speak to him. Thank you Rose,” Rey wanted to bury herself under the bed linens and never emerge. Even the mention of his name made her come undone.  
  
Rose placed her hand over Rey’s and squeezed gently. “It’s going to be alright, Rey. Soon you will be leaving the abbey for Admiral Hux’s estate, or another notable family, and you will find your purpose in God’s big wide world. I should get back to the kitchens before Sister Kanata notices me missing. Feel better, my friend.” With that, Rose left Rey alone with only her heartsickness and the painfully dragging bell chimes for company.  
           

* * *

  
At last the appointed time had arrived. The effects of the ointment had worn off hours ago, but it left a sticky residue in its wake. Combined with the mess of Rey’s slick, she had traded one discomfort for another. As she crept through the hushed halls toward the now familiar study door, she had half a mind to greet him with her wrath.  
  
It all fell away when she crossed the threshold. This time he was not arrogantly ignoring her presence, nor was he self-righteous and commanding. Instead, he was sitting by the fire, the warm yellow glow reflecting off the sharp angles of his face. Shadow and light played across his noble features, mirrored in his haunted eyes in such a manner that he seemed more like a painting than a man. One look at him and Rey knew she could refuse him nothing. _Ah God_ , she thought, _I am lost!_  
  
She walked to the center of the room and knelt at his feet, as she knew he required. He smiled down at her with no pretense. No hint of cruel amusement or dark intention was behind that smile - just pure admiration. He reached out to cup her cheek in his large hand, stroking it delicately.  
  
“My sweet Rey, I know these last few days have been hard for you. You have done so well, my girl.” Standing from his seat, he held out his hand to her. She placed the tips of her fingers against his, and he grasped firmly, helping her to her feet.  
  
Then he bent down, and with a gentleness so contrasted to the scale of his frame, scooped her into his arms as easily as if she were a child. She inhaled a small gasp, looping her own arms around his neck for stability. He held her with one hand against the small of her back and the other supporting her legs under the knee.  
  
Kylo leaned down to whisper sweetly into her ear, “Let us have a vow of silence now, my darling.”  
  
Smoothly he exited the study and her heart leapt fearfully into her throat. Where was he taking her?  
  
Kylo made a sharp left out of the study down a narrow corridor with doors lining either side. Rey gripped at his white shirt and held her breath. She recognized their course as heading for the clergy’s quarters, where no ward was under any circumstance permitted to go. His sleeping brethren were behind those doors, and Rey was sure he had gone mad. The risk was too great, yet all she could do was cling to his broad frame as he continued to carry her like a doll.  
  
At last he reached the end of the hallway, where his own chambers awaited. Carefully opening the door, he stepped inside and lowered Rey softly to her feet.  
  
_Are you daft?_ Her mind screamed at her, but the point of return had long since passed, so she steeled herself and looked about the dimly lit room. It was sparsely furnished, not unlike his study, yet it held every necessity for a man apart from the world.  
  
On the right side of the room closest to the door, there was a simple chest-of-drawers, and a shallow basin of water sat atop. A small mirror hung on the wall, and a crucifix beside it. At the chamber’s center was a narrow bed with a single pillow. The bed was longer than the ones the orphans slept in, but not by a great deal. Rey wondered how a man of Kylo’s stature could fit there even half comfortably. The foot of the bed faced a hearth where a gentle fire was heating the room. A spit was mounted across the flames, with an iron kettle hanging below. To the left side of the room, against the furthest corner, was a small white clawfoot tub.  
  
Kylo locked the door behind them then turned to face her. His face was softer than she had ever seen it, and the intimacy of being in his private chambers washed over her in warm waves.  
  
“Shall I kneel for you here too, Father?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“Not at all, my dear. You have done well and pleased me. Tonight it is I who bows to you.”  
  
With that, he moved behind her and gently began to undo her braid. It was tied with a yellow ribbon and after removing the bow, he loosely pried apart the folded strands, letting her chestnut locks spill through his fingers. His large hands cupped Rey’s head and massaged her tired scalp. A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips as she felt soothing comfort spread through her body at his touch.  
  
After several moments of this, he reached around her, nimbly unfastening the long row of buttons of her nightgown. On the descent between the third and fourth buttons, his hands grazed against her breasts, sending a jolt of excitement down her spine.  
  
Kylo planted kisses on her neck and shoulders as each new area became exposed. Slowly he slid the loosened gown further, the backs of her arms and the top curve of her spine now inviting his lips. Rey’s breath grew ragged, for his mouth was soft as as a summer breeze and twice as warm. When his moist tongue dragged up the curve of her shoulder blades her hips thrust forward in wanton invitation of their own accord. She felt her sex begin to gush for the countless time that day, and she was ever grateful the hated ointment had at last exhausted its potency.  
  
Rey’s nipples had stiffened to dusty peaks and she realized with trepidation that she was now standing with her breasts exposed. Kylo was still kneeling behind her, and he let the nightgown fall the remainder of the way to the floor. It was a white halo around her ankles and left her wearing only her bloomers. So absorbed was he in his ministrations that he didn’t even chide her for replacing them. He simply continued his mouthy examination of her body, now pressing his cheeks to the small of her back.  
  
She tried her best to stand still and silent while he pulled the last bit of clothing from her body. The bloomers came slowly too, and Rey softly mewled when Kylo placed both hands over her heart-shaped bottom. He laid kiss after kiss on each faded yellow bruise, and the pure eroticism of Father Ren’s mouth on her bare ass was making Rey’s head swim. His hands stroked up and down her legs, tracing the flare of her hips with his palms.  
  
At last he bade her turn around, and she did so timidly, a lovely blush upon her face. She stood fully naked in front of her priest, this man of warring spirits and intoxicating passions. He was looking up at her like she was a holy goddess and he murmured her name over and over in a litany.  
  
“Rey…Rey…my beautiful Rey,” Kylo whispered, his eyes unfathomably deep with longing.  
  
Rey felt herself rising at his words. No one had ever looked at her the way he did so now. He looked at her as though she were special, as though she were sacred. She felt more than desired, she felt _wanted_ , and it was as if the lock she had kept for years over her heart was clicking open with a perfectly fitted key.  
  
Kylo stood once more and took her hand. He led her to the corner of the room where the tub sat, and she could see now that he had already filled it with water.  
  
A bath was a luxury to the wards. Once a week they would bring pails of water from the well, heat them over the fire, and then fill a tub in their shared space. Each girl would use the same water, and it was always cold if you were last to enter. For clergy, ritualistic cleansing was expected more often but the task was just as tedious. That he had prepared this on his own, in his chambers, for her sake, brought grateful tears to her eyes.  
  
Kylo held her steady as she carefully stepped in. After the day she spent enduring the sticky torture between her legs, the caress of the warm water on her skin was pure bliss. She closed her eyes and sighed happily as she sank deep into the tub, any concerns about her nudity forgotten.  
  
Kylo reached for a chunk of yellow tallow soap sitting on the porcelain lip. He dunked it quickly into the water and rubbed his hands together, creating a lather. Then he spread the suds over Rey’s white shoulders and thin arms. Reaching lower he massaged her small breasts, easily covering them with his hands. Desire whirled in her blood and she moaned with closed eyes as he thumbed and plucked her hard nipples. “Oh, Father Ren!” she cried.  
  
Kylo’s hands stilled on her body and she searched his face for understanding. He looked into her eyes, that haunted cloud passing through again.  
  
“My name is Ben,” he said quietly.  
  
Rey tilted her head. “Ben?” She repeated, tasting it on her tongue.  
  
“Yes. Kylo Ren is the name I took from my order, when I joined the priesthood. But my name…my _real_ name…is Ben Solo. I…thought you should know,” he replied, the muscles of his mouth twitching behind his jaw.  
  
Rey could sense this was knowledge he rarely spoke of. “Thank you for telling me, Ben.” Something shifted imperceptibly in the air between them.  
  
Ben resumed cleaning Rey’s skin with gentle strokes, lifting her hair away to wash her back.  
  
“Have you had any more nightmares, Rey?” Ben asked as he cupped his hands to rinse away the suds.  
  
“Curiously, no. Not since…not since that night,” she said with a small smile.  
  
“What were they about, Little Lamb?”  
  
Rey looked down at her knees, distorted by the haze of water. “My mother,” she replied at last.  
  
Ben’s downturned lip quivered slightly, as though pained by this answer. “What do you remember of her?”  
  
Rey swallowed a lump forming in her throat. “She was the hardest working person I ever knew. Day and night she labored to keep us fed, and in the end, that’s what killed her.” She struggled to keep her voice level, bitterness seeping into the words.  
  
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and his voice thrummed with tenderness. “My mother is gone too. You’re not alone.”  
  
Rey looked at Ben, into the dark eyes that so easily revealed her soul. She had been surrounded by other orphans almost her entire life, yet this was the first time she felt truly understood. What had started between them as defiant sin now seemed nothing less than sweet salvation. They were here together, alive together, and this moment belonged to them alone.  
  
“Neither are you,” Rey told him, and she leaned forward to meet his lips.  
  
Slowly they merged, lips touching lips which had never kissed before. Rey moaned against Ben’s mouth, so full and lush against her own. His sighing breath tickled her cheek and her fingers came to the back of his head to twist in his thick black hair.  
  
Though the kiss began chaste and a little stiff, neither quite knowing how to proceed, she soon felt Ben’s curious tongue seeking entrance into her mouth. She parted slightly and he probed forward with tentative licks that inflamed her with desire. He quickly grew ravenous, sucking and nipping with earnest, and his hands groped blindly through the water to find purchase at her hips.  
  
He dug his fingers into her taut skin, squeezing and stroking with a fervor that made her shudder. She spread her legs, yearning for him to touch her sex, and he needed no second invitation. His long fingers caressed her inner lips, sliding down to tease her slick entrance and back up to brush against her clit. The bath water washed away some of her juices, creating more friction than she had felt in his study. He was rougher too, and she sensed he needed her more desperately now.  
  
Rey broke their kiss and purred seductively into his ear, “Take me, Father,” earning her the sound of rough panting from Ben. He clamped his teeth into her neck then laved the bite with his flat tongue and she keened with pleasure.  
  
Ben stood to his feet and grabbed a hooded cloak from a hook on the wall. He helped her up, his searing gaze tracing the water droplets as they streamed down her tits and belly. He wrapped the cloak around Rey’s small body, absorbing some of the water, and once more cradled her into his arms. The feel of being pressed against his hard chest made her feel so secure.  
  
He laid her on the bed, the heavy black cloak draped about her shoulders, a tantalizing strip of bare skin showing in the divide. The small curve of her breasts was framed on either side by the fabric, down to the flat valley of her wet stomach, and her searing hot core. She saw him staring and her shame became ashes in the fire of her lust. She parted her legs, letting him drink his fill of her rosy sex, swollen as it was.  
  
She too drank in the sight of him, his jet hair mussed and slightly damp from her fingers. It fell untamed across his forehead, framing his dark brow. His white shirt was clinging to the curve of his pectorals, translucent from the water it had absorbed when he carried her. Under his breeches she could see he was engorged for her, and she yearned to look upon his manhood again.  
  
Ben’s eyes were wild and predatory. He offered his thick middle finger to her lips and she opened her mouth to welcome him. He let her tongue slide up and down his digit, groaning at the sensual way she sucked it deeper. When it was sufficiently wet, he pressed it at the drooling entrance of her slit.  
  
It was much thicker than his pinky from earlier, but she was also much more ready than before. Still, it stung when he began to insert it, but she bit her lip and fought through the discomfort. She wanted some part of him inside her, and she would take any part she could get. To encourage him on she luridly arched her back, and it had the desired effect. He moaned and pushed further inside her until his entire finger had disappeared. When he hooked his digit upward in a curl, she had to cover her mouth to keep from crying out with need.  
  
“Ben,” she gasped, “Ben I need you.” Rey reached to his breeches, his cloak falling away from her body completely as she nimbly unhooked the top button. The guttural groan from Ben’s lips drove her onward, each button falling until at last his cock was revealed. He had worn no small clothes, and the sight of his full thickness springing forward unrestrained made her gasp.  
  
In the study, she had only witnessed the head and the first few inches, as most of his length was covered by his hand and his clothing. Now, she was eye level with a man’s cock for the very first time and it seemed impossibly large. Was such a thing truly meant to fit into her body, when even his fingers felt cramped?  
  
He noticed her hesitation and reached down to tenderly stroke her cheek. “Sweetling, remember that nothing will happen here without your permission.”  
  
She was overcome by gratitude for his mercy. He, who had left her twice aching with need, who had shown her the pleasure to be found in pain, was yet kind underneath his fierce facade. It made her desire burn all the hotter. She wanted to open herself to him completely, to make him lose his self-restraint in her arms. Whatever he had held back, whatever demons left in his sinful blood, she wanted to bear it all. No God or hellfire would keep her from this man and his right to make her a woman.  
  
“Can I touch you?” Rey asked, determined to please him.  
  
Ben moaned his approval so she reached forward and cupped her hand around his shaft. She marveled at the feeling, so different than what she was expecting. The hardness was there but it was underneath the warm velvet of his skin, more like muscle than bone. With her thumb she traced the blue veins that ran like rivers down the length. When she circled her hand to tighten her grip, his low grunting filled her ears.  
  
“Move your hand up and down,” he instructed and she did her best to comply. Her fingers did not touch together but she slid them slowly back and forth. At the base, his thick pubic hair tickled her fist, and at the top, she felt the firm curve of his cockhead. She was amazed to see the slit dribbling liquid from the arrow shaped tip.  
  
Ben placed his large hand over her small one, and gently worked her into a quick rhythm. He gripped her fist so she was squeezing him tightly now, and helped her adjust to curving her wrist as she neared his sensitive crown. His breath became a strained hiss and his eyes rolled back to the whites.  
  
Panting, he quickly pushed his breeches down and stepped out of them, followed by the buttons of his white shirt. Rey’s eyes widened at the expanse of his muscular chest. Though the wet shirt hid little, the smooth marble of his skin still thrilled her. There was nothing between them now but heat.  
  
Bending down to meet her for another deep kiss, Ben straddled her body with one knee on the narrow bed, one long leg still planted on the floor. There was not enough width for them both to lay, but he pressed his weight upon her and grabbed both her wrists together in his wide grip, holding them firmly above her head. Her small breasts puddled into her rib cage as she lay on her back, tempting him like the most delicious forbidden fruit. His mouth left hers in a wet sucking pop only to snake his long tongue around the wide disks of her pink areolas, tracing the circle again and again. Rey was trying desperately to dampen her moans but losing the fight. Her entire body was a series of sparks under his explosive touch.  
  
Her ready cunt was pouring slick onto his bed as she bucked her hips involuntarily. Each upward thrust met his hard cock, the wet lips of her sex coating him in her juice. The sensitive crown bobbed near her entrance, twitching eagerly. He was still outside her body but each time she thrust he moaned savagely and slipped a little closer to her center.  
  
The smell of sex drenched the air and Ben’s sweet sweat dripped from his forehead to her chest as he continued his assault on her sensitive nipples. When she lifted her leg to wrap around his upper thigh, the look he gave her was molten.  
  
Suddenly, he grabbed her by the waist and flipped so he was lying on the bed and her body draped over him, chest to chest. She took the opportunity to grind her hips against his erection, and he whimpered beneath her.  
  
“Rey…Sweetling,” Ben panted from swollen lips. “I want you so badly but we must not go further.”  
  
Rey sat upright, straddling his thighs with widespread legs. Her face was a mask of hurt and confusion. “But Father, doesn’t it feel good? Why should we stop?”  
  
Ben placed his finger to her lips to quiet her. “It is the most pleasure I have ever felt, Little Lamb, and still we _must not_ go further. This…this last fortress - your maidenhood - I could never ask for that. Please understand me, Rey.”  
  
“But, it is mine to give and I should choose to whom it belongs,” she insisted.  
  
“Yes, it is yours to give. And yet, someday, when you are wed and I am but an ancient ghost of memory, you may wish for a different choice. Only then it would be too late. And Rey…from one who has lived with the bitter sting of regret, I could not impose that upon you.” Ben stroked her back gently and gave her a lopsided smile. “Please, my girl, let me keep the last shred of my vow and let me protect you from this impulse. Come, lie with me, I desire to hold you.”  
  
Rey sighed but she spoke no more, and arranged herself on the wide platform of his chest, legs entangled below. She placed her ear over his heart and listened as it drummed out a fading rhythm. They lay a long time in the deepening quiet, with only the pop of flames to disturb it. Gradually Rey felt Ben’s erection soften and shrink as she traced lazy circles across his upper body with one finger. There was no strangeness in the silence, just a gentle floating peace.  
  
“Ben…” Rey said, her mind drifting back to their conversation.  
  
“Hm?” He murmured, seeming almost close to sleep.  
  
“What was your life like, before you became a priest?”  
  
He didn’t answer for a long while, and she thought perhaps he had fallen to slumber. At last, he exhaled and his words were hushed. “It was…tumultuous.”  
  
Not satisfied, she pressed on. “You said your mother was gone, what was she like? Did she die when you were young?”  
  
“Why do you ask, Little Lamb?” Ben turned his head to stare at the wall.  
  
“Forgive me, I know it is not my place to pry. Only…I want to know you. More than just your body. I want to know _you_ .”  
  
Another puff of air escaped his lips, as though incredulous, but he did relent. “Very well. My mother was aristocracy, but her parents were displeased when she chose to marry my father because he was from…dubious stock. She gave up her inheritance to be with him, but my father was clever and industrious. They soon made their own fortune breeding and racing horses. Then I was born.”  
  
Rey was moved, imagining his mother as someone beautiful and headstrong, with the same fire she saw behind Ben’s eyes. “She must have been very brave, to give up everything for love. Did your father raise you when your mother passed?”  
  
“No. He went before her. There was…an accident. She died of illness shortly after. I went to live with my aunt.” Ben’s fingers gripped at the linens and she felt his heart speed up in his chest beneath her. Rey longed to know more about his past, but knew she had already overstepped, so she let that be the final word.  
  
The abbey bell chimed three past midnight, startling Rey from her reverie. Time was slipping away and dawn’s light would soon come to steal the other wards from their dreaming.  
  
“Ben…I should get back,” she whispered, though it pained her to say it. If she closed her eyes once more, she could imagine they were husband and wife, lying together in their marriage bed, never again to be parted.  
  
“Yes, so you should.” Ben stroked her hair tenderly, and kissed her forehead. Then he lifted her up and picked her nightgown from the floor. She raised her arms and he pulled it over her small body, a wistful look in his eyes. Next he helped her step back into her bloomers. Finally she stood before his mirror, re-braiding her hair and sealing it with her yellow ribbon. She looked back at Ben, who had dressed once again, and was waiting for her by the door. He held out his hand and she clasped it.  
  
Looking quickly down the hallway for signs of stirring, he gave her the signal and with one last gentle kiss, sent her tiptoeing back to the attic.  
  
She held her breath until she reached her bed and nestled into Rose’s warm back. Exhausted and happy, Rey faded into a brief but dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey deserved some aftercare after what he put her through, don’t you think? ;)
> 
> I can’t believe we are at the halfway point of the story! Thank you for taking this journey along with me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben revisits his past with Rey’s help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please see updated tags**
> 
> You wear guilt  
> Like shackles on your feet  
> Like a halo in reverse  
> I can feel  
> The discomfort in your seat  
> And in your head it's worse
> 
> There's a pain  
> A famine in your heart  
> An aching to be free  
> Can't you see  
> All love's luxuries  
> Are here for you and me
> 
> Bring your chains  
> Your lips of tragedy  
> And fall into my arms  
> -Depeche Mode

In the morning, Kylo’s bed linens still smelled of Rey. He buried his face in the pillow, inhaling deeply with boyish delight. He had no word for the feeling that was growing rapidly within him - or else he dare not name it - but it buoyed him through his sterile days and made him live for their stolen nights.  
  
He made his prayers and quickly dressed, then strode toward the kitchen for the daily assembly. He had met with each ward as propriety demanded, and it was time now to let the clergy know his decision. He smiled as he walked, remembering a pair of hazel eyes staring deeply into his and giving him hope that he wasn’t alone.  
  
Not since Kylo lost his mother had he allowed anyone behind his walls. He had failed her in a way that could never be forgiven, no matter how many times he gave himself to the blood of Christ. His aunt had made sure to belabor this point, and he felt that her blows to his body were small retribution to what he truly deserved. It was after Leia Organa Solo died that Kylo was cursed with such a dark and insatiable hunger, and only his aunt had known how to keep it at bay. She compelled him by whatever means necessary to surrender himself wholly to God, a lifetime of service the only sacrifice that could possibly cover his sins.  
  
He thought he had found all the relief from his demons he was ever going to know, until _she_ came into his life. It went against everything Kylo was taught in seminary, yet somehow her solution had worked. He felt more alive, more focused, more able to lead the congregation since he began seeing Rey. Perhaps it was because her faith in him increased his faith in himself. Or perhaps it was because after each of their encounters, his mind felt oddly cleansed of the dark energies building there.  
  
After last night, he thought he had finally discovered the true reason: they were alike in ways that seemed nothing short of divine providence. As a man who believed in an omniscient and omnipotent God, he trusted that somehow Rey was part of God’s plan for him. Where that plan would go beyond her appointment at Hux’s estate, he chose not to think about for the moment.  
  
On his way to the clergy’s dining hall, he fell in beside Sister Kanata. Kylo shortened his long steps to match her cautious ones and nodded to acknowledge her. “Blessed morning, Sister,” he greeted her cheerfully.  
  
Sister Kanata turned and studied him curiously, then flashed him a toothless grin. “Why Reverend Father, you seem in such bright spirits today. It warms this old woman’s heart to see. Praise be unto His name.”  
  
Kylo started to demure but stopped himself short. He _was_ in a fine mood and where was the harm in it? So much had changed in the nearly two weeks since Rey had given herself to him, and still neither of them had come to the great and terrible ruin he had feared.  
  
“This is the day the Lord has made, Sister Kanata, let us rejoice in the wonders of His creation.” _Especially the creation of woman_ , he added in his mind.  
  
When the other clergy were gathered and the blessing given, Kylo called their attention.  
  
“My Sisters and Brothers, over the last several days I have met with each of the three wards under consideration, and it is with much prayer that I have chosen our candidate for Admiral Hux: Rey Kenobi.” Kylo looked over the table. Father Dameron and Father Storm appeared neutral. Sister Kanata was nodding her head. But Sister Holdo turned to quirk a brow in The Mother Superior’s direction, who appeared as though she had taken a bite of raw lemon.  
  
“Your Very Reverend, with all due respect, this is a weighty and crucial decision,” Sister Phasma stated flatly.  
  
Kylo regarded her with caution, sensing diplomacy was the need at hand. “Indeed it is, Reverend Mother. I have given the matter much thought and petition before the Lord.” There was something unspoken in her tone he sought to draw out before he switched to defensive methods.  
  
Phasma was not one to mince words. “Perhaps two months ago I would have agreed with you, Father Ren, but as of late I have questioned my act of intercession for Miss Kenobi. She has shown herself to be insolent, unfocused, and wholly ungrateful for our reprieve. I fear she would not bring honor to the name of St. Jedi.” She turned to the other clergy, with pointed looks at Sisters Kanata and Holdo in particular. “Is it not so?”  
  
Sister Kanata held her tongue but Sister Holdo murmured her agreement.  
  
Corrosive ire pricked in Kylo’s throat. His fists squeezed at his sides but he kept his voice level. “Rey is the oldest of the wards, and she has the intelligence and ambition needed to be a successful member of the Admiral’s household. I value your opinion, Mother Superior, but I am the one who knows the Admiral and his proclivities. I am the one who has met with each girl to determine her worthiness. As Rector and as your Reverend Father, this decision is mine to make and I have done so with finality.”  
  
The Reverend Mother rose from the table. She bowed her head to Kylo and left the room without another word, but a stormy expression was on her brow.  
  
Kylo’s jaw twitched as he swallowed his anger. Smoothing his features to impassivity, he regarded the remaining clergy. “Have we other matters to discuss?” Nothing was offered, so they continued eating their breakfast in silence.

 

* * *

 

Word spread quickly through the orphanage that Rey had been selected, and the sudden influx of attention was causing her pains. Rey had been born a nobody, to parents who were nobodies. Although in her most secret dreams she longed to escape this fate, the inner voice that taunted her own insignificance was not yet vanquished. To be the center of attention, even positive attention, felt like a vicious ruse that would expose her as its victim at any moment. Therefore, whenever congratulated, she shuffled awkwardly and tried to interject a new topic posthaste. 

  
Rose would have none of her modesty and took every opportunity to heap praise upon her friend.  
  
“Oh, Rey, this is so exciting! I just know this was God’s plan for you all along, my darling. Just think, you will at last get to glimpse the sea! And what a kind man the Admiral must be, to consider our humble abbey for his governess. He’s a widower, you know, and perhaps even wanting for a wife?” Rose had forgotten her usual reservations as she babbled forth her hopes for Rey.  
  
Rey had been lost in her own precious hopes, but she was watching them dissolve away. Father Ren — _Ben_ — had really done it. He had kept his word and convinced the clergy that she should have the governess-ship. So why did she hate him for it? A fortnight ago, it was her most earnest wish to leave the abbey and prove that she could make her own willful way in the world. But now, leaving would not be so simple. Staying would be more complicated still.  
  
At first, her offer to him had been out of pity and perhaps if she were honest, her own curiosity. She had always believed herself to be a failure in matters of the soul. There was a time, an innocent time when she lived with her parents, that she had _wanted_ to be strong in her faith. To be pure and obedient, just as her mother told her that she should be; just as her mother always was. But Satine Kenobi’s death left a scar no invisible hand could stitch. Rey learned the harsh truth of the world that darkened day: whether there be a God or not, He had little care for the troubles of man.  
  
Since coming to St. Jedi, the nuns and priests were a constant reminder of a kind of assurance she would never feel. So when she saw into Ben’s inner battles, she was compelled to discover how even a holy man could be subject to failings of the flesh. If he could struggle as she struggled, perhaps there was hope for her yet?  
  
After the pity and the fascination came the hunger. The wonders of his body were a fruit forbidden, and she would have never dreamed what those shapeless robes were hiding. He was more Greek god than servant of Jehovah, with eyes like a fiery lake and lips that tasted of ambrosia. Rey had at the start been innocent, but what bloomed between them was nothing less than instinct. Every emptiness of her woman’s body cried out to be joined to his masculine fullness. It was irresistible, and all consuming.  
  
If it had only been infatuation, if it had only been lust, perhaps she still could have escaped with her soul. She was young, she had a golden opportunity ahead of her, and God’s mercy could cover every sin with repentance. Kylo was a priest and she never expected him to stop being a priest just because he had failed this test. But after last night - after his tenderness, his kindness, his _devotion_ …how could she leave the abbey behind and pretend as though her heart would not linger there still?  
  
All these thoughts and more were swirling in her brain, but Rose’s excitement was pulling her reluctantly back to the present. Yet the implication that she would be interested in courting Admiral Hux shocked her like cold water to the face.  
  
“I hardly think a wealthy war hero would be interested in a low-born orphan,” she snapped, with more annoyance than she intended.  
  
Rose looked stung. “I’m sorry…I suppose I was carried away and forgot myself. It’s just thrilling is all. Don’t you feel the same?” She asked in a small voice.  
  
Rey chastised herself inwardly for her sharp tongue. She tried again, gentleness easing into her tone. “I am excited, Rose. I’m beyond grateful to God for His mercy. But I’m quite sure that I won’t be marrying the Admiral. Perhaps I won’t get married at all.”  
  
Her thoughts returned as ever to Father Ren, like a child’s toy on a tether. He told her that when she was wed she might regret offering him her maidenhood, but she knew it would not be so. He had marked her now, and she would carry this brand for life. If the Church would always come between their bodies, it could not dictate for whom she preserved her heart.  
  
Rose huffed a weak sigh, knowing better than to argue with her headstrong friend but pressing on regardless.  “Of course you will, Rey. You are young and beautiful and chaste. What man would not covet your hand in marriage?”  
  
Rey only shook her head. She was young, yes. And he had told her she was beautiful. But though her virginity was intact, she knew she would never be chaste again. And the one man that she wanted was forbidden to want her too.  
  
Perhaps Rose was right. Perhaps leaving the abbey was the right thing to do. With enough time and distance, maybe she would forget a pair of doe-soft eyes telling her that she wasn’t alone.  
  
                       

* * *

  
Kylo was in his study when the courier arrived. He gave him his thanks and the customary coin, in exchange for two sealed envelopes. _Curious_ , he thought to himself, as only one was expected. Perhaps Hux had been delayed after his first letter was dispatched? Kylo grimaced. After this morning’s conflict with the Mother Superior, he feared he could not barter much more time on Rey’s behalf.  
  
Slicing through the first envelope with his letter opener, he unfolded the parchment and was pleased to see it was indeed from Hux. The letter was formal and direct as was his way, but Hux was delighted with Kylo’s suggestion and would leave for the abbey as soon as arrangements at his estate could be made. He planned to arrive in about two week’s time.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief. The plan had worked. It was an enormous risk to believe that calling in a favor from an old school associate would begin to put them on the path to solvency, but they were so close to succeeding.  
  
Preparations must commence immediately if they were to use the remaining time wisely. The abbey would muster all its resources for hospitality. It would require a banquet, or as close as they could come to one. The Admiral would need private sleeping quarters. And Kylo would ask Sister Kanata to make a new dress for Rey.  
  
_Rey_ …the sudden realization that he had just fourteen more days with her crashed over him coldly. Although he knew this was the best thing for them both, his lungs felt tight at the knowledge he must say goodbye.  
  
Rey was an exquisite young woman with her whole future laid before her. The governess-ship would open doors for her that the Church never could. She would live comfortably, marry suitably, and one day have a family of her own. God knows Kylo could give her none of that.  
  
Chastity was not the only vow he had taken; there was also the vow of poverty. _That_ promise had been easier to keep, thanks to his irredeemable mistakes. When he had been sent to live with his aunt, he had lost not just his mother’s love but her fortune and family name as well. He was penniless before he entered the church, so it had been easy to forebear all his worldly possessions.  
  
But Rey deserved more. She may have been born to poverty, but if she did as well as he knew she could at the Admiral’s, she would leave with a sizable dowry saved. Enough to assist in building a homestead with her future husband. Enough to start a life. All that she never had, and all that he wanted for her.  
  
So why was the thought of Rey living in a cottage by the sea, taking another man’s name, cradling that other man’s babe in her loving arms so _fucking_ painful?  
  
Kylo rubbed his temples wearily. He had to stop this school boy fantasy. _This_ was the life he had committed to. This was his cross to bear. Only the Church could give him the belonging he sought. Only God could love such a feckless and volatile man like him.  
  
He reached for the other letter and his sour mood turned wretched. The envelope shook in his trembling hand. He knew that jagged script and that serpent crest pressed into gold sealing wax. It was a letter from his Aunt Snoke.  
  
Since Kylo had taken his position at St. Jedi, he had little contact with his aunt. She was living her remaining days on her grand estate, and had become reclusive in her latter years. It was just as well to Kylo. Though she was his only remaining family, save his touched uncle who was languishing in a sanitarium, her presence never failed to make Kylo feel shrunken and weak.  
  
He fought to steady his breathing and opened the envelope to remove the parchment within. His hand slipped over the letter opener, and he winced as it sliced into his thumb. Biting back a curse, his eyes skimmed over the words.  
  
_Benedict,_ _  
_ _  
_ _My physicians have informed me that my days grow short. I should have the fools prosecuted for all the money they have leeched from me, only to surrender at the last hour. I bid you return to my side at once to fulfill your familial duty and perform my final rites._ _  
_ _  
_ _In the Father’s name,_ _  
_ _Priscilla Snoke_ _  
_  
Kylo stared down at the letter, speckled now with small drops of blood. He was bound in memories that dragged him like an anchor beneath the waves of sorrow and guilt. He had given up everything to forget his past, yet it had been there waiting in his shadow all the while.  
  
                       

* * *

  
Rey had never seen this place before. A row of small thatched huts stood on either side of a rocky path lined by overgrown weeds. She looked down to see that she wore a long scarlet skirt with dozens of silver coins sewn into the fabric which tinkled merrily as she walked. Her midriff was bare and more scarlet fabric was wrapped tightly around her breasts, closing the valley between them to temptingly increase their fullness. Dusty leather sandals covered her feet, and she wore a multitude of silver rings on her fingers and even a few on her toes.  
  
She passed a woman walking hand in hand with a young child. At the sight of Rey, the woman tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand and looked to Rey with a scathing glare. They hurried on, leaving Rey to wonder why she had invited such disdain.  
  
Something was drawing her to the ramshackle hut at the end of the path. Despite its rundown appearance, she felt a warmth emanating from within that beckoned her forth. She approached the splintered wooden door and found that it opened with ease.  
  
The door creaked open to reveal a narrow bench at the far end of the room. Kylo sat upon it, dressed in sackcloth, with a welcoming smile illuminating his face. On the dirt floor below the bench was a basin of water. Wordlessly, he held out his hand in invitation.  
  
Rey crossed the room and took his hand, and he turned her wrist to lay a gentle kiss upon her palm. Kylo stood and asked her to take his place upon the bench. When she had done so, he knelt with humility before her. Removing her sandals, he placed her feet into the basin and gently washed away the dust of her travels. The water swirled red with clay as Kylo rubbed and massaged the warm liquid into her skin.  
  
Rey closed her eyes at his soothing touch and Kylo began to press kisses onto the tops of her now clean feet, working his way from her ankle to her shin. Higher and higher he kissed until he was nuzzling at the tender skin of her inner thigh. Rey whined with pleasure at his soft lips, opening her legs to invite him in.  
  
When she opened her eyes, the hut had disappeared. She was standing in a crowd of at least thirty people and their angry shouts burned her ears. She was jostled forward by the rush of bodies pressing together, and she strained to see over the tops of faceless heads.  
  
“Kill him!” A woman with pox-scarred cheeks screamed.  
  
“Wretched filth!” A stout man was yelling.  
  
Rey watched as the crowd tossed rotted fruit and small stones in a spinning arc at their hated target.  
  
“Let me see, please let me by!” She cried, pushing and twisting through the throng.  
  
At last she saw what had churned the furious mob into a maelstrom.  
  
On a sloping rise ahead, two soldiers were mounting a thick wooden plank into the tilled earth. As one of the men finished nailing the crossbeam to form a crucifix, a second man was driving a weak and broken body forward with a bullwhip.  
  
The prisoner had been stripped naked, rows of fresh wounds traversing the raw flesh of his back. He fell exhausted to his knees in front of the crucifix, and the soldier cuffed him hard about the head. His hand withdrew bloodied, and he cursed at the pitiful heap at his feet. The two soldiers then hoisted the man by his limp arms onto the wooden frame, and mercilessly drove a spike into each of his wrists and his joined feet.  
  
Rey shut her eyes tightly and covered her ears to drown out the man’s screams, his palpable anguish rocking her to the core.  
  
The crowd laughed at the man’s torture. Rey spun to face them in disgusted disbelief that they could find amusement in such a vile display.  
  
“How can you just stand there and watch him die?! Do something!” She cried accusingly, to no one and to everyone.  
  
A woman with ice blue eyes that seemed eerily familiar spoke in return. “The wages of sin are death,” she answered, spitting on the ground at Rey’s feet.  
  
The woman grasped Rey about the shoulders and made her turn forward again. Her fingers, gnarled with age, gripped Rey’s head and forced her to look upon the horror of the prisoner writhing on the cross, begging for death.  
  
His matted black hair was taken by a sudden breeze, and Rey screamed when she looked into his eyes.  
  
It was Kylo, and he gasped for air as he looked pleadingly at her. Blood was trickling down his face like bitter tears.  
  
“Forgive me,” was all he had the strength to cry before the darkness overcame them both.  
  
                       

* * *

  
Rey woke with a choked sob stabbing at her throat. The pitch darkness of the attic seemed to be closing in around her. She had had her first nightmare in over two weeks, and trembled at the horrific images still seared into her mind.  
  
She tried to tell herself it was only a dream, that Ben was safe and so was she. But coldness was rising like a tide in her belly, and she could not shake the foul suspicion that it had been a warning. As hard as she tried, the thought that he was in trouble would not dissipate.  
  
By now Rey was practiced at leaving the attic while the other girls slept. She knew which boards to put her weight on and which to avoid. She knew the speed at which she had to walk to stay silent. Putting her knowledge to good use, she pushed back her blankets and headed for the door.  
  
She crossed the long hallway leading to Ben’s study. She was surprised to find the door locked, and saw only darkness through the keyhole. Pressing her ear to the door, she could hear nothing.  
  
Rey looked down the corridor to the clergy’s quarters. Perhaps Ben was there, sleeping peacefully. She dare not make that perilous journey on her own.  
  
Rey chewed the inside of her lip. The gnawing sense of foreboding had not passed. There was one other place she could search for him before putting her mind to ease.  
  
With hesitant steps, Rey began descending the great staircase to the main level. Each small creak beneath her feet caused her to jump and dart her eyes warily to the sleeping rooms. At last she neared the bottom and made a left turn, her sight finally adjusting to the darkness.  
  
The ornate double doors of the sanctuary were just ahead. A mural of angels was carved into the frame and Rey felt their judging eyes upon her as she carefully pulled on the brass handle and slipped inside.  
  
The interior was awash with candlelight, casting eerie shadows over the stoic Saints that watched from the high walls. The rows of wooden pews stood like silent soldiers guarding a tomb.  
  
At the far end of the room was the altar, and crouched on hands and knees at the bottom step was Ben. He was doubled over, shoulders quaking as he sobbed, an anguished prayer spilling from his lips. She watched as he lifted his face to the crucifix hanging above the altar, his beautiful features contorted with woe.  
  
Rey cautiously approached, yearning to comfort him yet held back by a feeling that she was somehow intruding on his innermost being. As she neared the altar on padded feet, she could hear snatches of his whispered pleas.  
  
“ _Repentance…_ _  
_ _unclean…_ _  
_ _protection…_ _  
_ _dishonor…_ _  
_ _torment”_ _  
_  
Ben’s chest began to heave, breath forcing through his gaping mouth as though he were drowning on dry land. He grabbed at his head with his hands, rocking back and forth with a pitiful whine. When his body started to shake, Rey could no longer hold herself from his side. She ran the last steps to the altar, falling to her knees and throwing her arms about his wide shoulders.  
  
She covered his damp forehead and his fevered cheeks with kisses, struggling to keep him in her embrace as he continued to gasp for air.  
  
“Ben…Ben it’s me. It’s Rey…I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” she told him over and over, her words covering him like a liturgy.  
  
At long last his panting slowed to sighing and his shuddering began to still.  
  
When he had calmed enough to speak, Ben turned to her, eyes swollen red from his tears. “My angel…you came for me.”  
  
Rey’s brows stitched in concern, a dull throbbing in her heart. She cupped his cheek in her small hand, and a fresh wave of tears washed down his face when she began to tenderly caress his scar.  
  
“I will always come when you call me, Father. I have sworn myself to you.”  
  
At her words, Ben kissed her desperately. Their tongues wrestled together, needy mouths grasping for purchase again and again. Rey could taste the salt of his tears as she suckled his lower lip, earning her a choked whimper from Ben.  
  
Ben…her beloved prisoner of a thousand ghosts. What drove him to such misery? She shuddered as she remembered her dream and his wretched suffering. Would his soul ever be free of its chains? Was there ever a time and a place for them when they could cast off the scorn of the world and just _be_ the precious creatures they were meant to be?  
  
Rey broke their kiss as she stroked her fingers through Ben’s long onyx hair. She cradled his face in her palms and looked mournfully into his haunted eyes.  
  
“Ben…whatever burdens you are carrying, please let me share your yoke.”  
  
She watched as his expression crumpled. A kaleidoscope of emotion flickered there - guilt, doubt, shame, courage, and finally - hope? His tongue roved anxiously behind his jaw, full lips pressing and parting several times before he spoke.  
  
“Rey, I…last night, in my chambers, I wasn’t quite honest with you.” Ben’s voice was strained and tight. Rey’s eyes searched his face but she said nothing.  
  
He continued. “I didn’t go to live with my aunt because my mother died. I went because my mother sent me. Sent me away. She did die, but that was later.”  
  
Rey tilted her head, feeling the sorrow radiating from him. It squeezed at her heart like a vice, but she remained strong for him. “Why Ben?” She asked gently.  
  
“Because it was my fault that my father died,” Ben shut his eyes as though too afraid to see her expression.  
  
Rey grasped Ben’s hand and squeezed it tightly. A long moment passed.  
  
“What happened to him?” Rey whispered, a precarious mood in the air like balancing on a knife’s edge.  
  
“When I was a boy, my father and I never were in accord. He wanted me to work with my hands, as he did, and I wanted to exercise my mind. He was stoic; I was mercurial. I told you that he bred and raced horses. He would travel all over the country, seeking the best studs and entering his prized thoroughbreds in endless contests. His work kept him long weeks from home and I resented my mother’s loneliness.”  
  
Ben’s voice trailed off, as though lost in his memories. Rey stroked the back of his hand tenderly in the silence. After a while, he took a steadying breath and continued.  
  
“One day, he and my mother had an argument over an upcoming race. She said he had won enough money and could take a holiday, but my father insisted on going. His prized horse, Falcon, was on a four race streak and my father could not resist the thrill of a challenge. No matter how much she begged him to take time away, he wouldn’t hear of it. I was furious that he was again choosing to put his pride above his family. Determined to teach him a lesson, I stole Falcon from the barn on the eve of the race and rode him into town. There I met with a bookie and offered to sell him the horse for a insultingly low sum of money.”  
  
Ben’s voice pitched high as he recalled the conclusion of his tale and he gripped Rey’s hand so tightly that it pained her.  
  
“My father came after me and he found me before the transaction was made. He confronted the man and told him the horse was not mine to sell. But the bookie was quick to temper and none too pleased to be tricked out of a plum trade. He brandished his dueling pistol and shot my father in cold blood before my eyes. I…I held his body as he died. If I hadn’t given in to my anger, he would still be alive.” Ben choked on a sob, the words swallowed by his tightening throat.  
  
Rey wrapped her small arms as far around his shoulders as they would go, pulling him into her. She gently swayed as she held him. “Oh Ben…it wasn’t you that pulled that trigger.”  
  
“It might as well have been!” He retorted bitterly. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply.  
  
“When my mother found out, she couldn’t bear to look at me. Everything changed between us. She felt that she had coddled me and could not help me to overcome my fits of passion, which had broken apart our family. She sent me to live with my aunt, Priscilla Snoke. She was…a hard woman. But it was she who introduced me to the Lord and gave me a path to…to redemption.”  
  
Ben’s eyes glazed over again, seeming to forget Rey was there and listening. She kissed the back of his hand to pull him again to the present. He took another deep breath and continued bravely.  
  
“It was after I went to live with my aunt that my struggles with sins of the flesh began. As I grew into a young man, there was an emptiness inside me that never seemed to fill. Lustful pleasure distracted me from that emptiness. Except it was just another illusion. My aunt showed me that. She punished me harshly for my sins but she also showed me a way out. The salvation of the Lord. The priesthood. My relationship with God was the only thing I had to cling to, after my mother died of typhoid. I never…my mother, she didn’t…after my father died, we never spoke again.”  
  
Silver tears were glistening on his cheeks in the candlelight. Rey thumbed them gently away and he pressed a kiss into her palm in gratitude.  
  
He looked to her with a sad smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth before, Little Lamb. Since joining the Church, my one aim has been to leave those years behind me and to make amends for the person I was then. But it seems it’s caught up with me after all.”

“What do you mean, Ben?”  
  
“I received a letter from my aunt today. She is gravely ill and I must go to her. There is so little time before the Admiral’s visit. I don’t want to leave, but I must.”  
  
Rey’s brow pulled together in suspicion. When she found him tonight, he had been terribly afraid and small. It was clear that Ben’s guilt over his desires had come not just from his faith, but also from his aunt. At the risk of overstepping, she spoke up.  
  
“You say that your aunt punished you harshly. Is that how you got this scar?” She touched his split cheek tenderly.  
  
He flinched at the question and nodded wordlessly.  
  
Her temper was quick and hot. His mother had abandoned him and then his aunt had abused him. It was little wonder he labored under such a burden of shame. He was tied to the Church because he felt unworthy, but she could think of no more worthy man than he. Again she railed against the unfairness of the Almighty. One rash decision made as a boy and he believed he had to pay for it with his entire life.  
  
An ache was growing inside her breast, for his sorrows and for her longing to soothe them. Plucking up her courage, she looked into his eyes. “What if you didn’t respond to your Aunt’s letter? You don’t have to go to her. You don’t have to do anything at all. You can be free, Ben! Have you ever wanted…I mean, have you ever thought of what else you might be, outside of the Church?” Her voice died to a whisper, and the irony of her words while inside a sanctuary were not lost upon her.  
  
Ben shook his head. “It can never be. I may never be worthy of God’s salvation but my life is the only thing I can offer in return.”  
  
“That’s not true. There are many things we can do to honor God. We can try to live by His commandments.” She squeezed his hand and met his eyes. “We can love each other as He loved us. We can be fruitful, and multiply…I would go anywhere with you, Ben. I would do anything for you.”  
  
Ben shut his eyes. “Rey. Please, my girl. We mustn’t think of that. I may be a terrible priest, but it is still my calling. And you deserve far more than a disgraced man of the cloth. I could not provide for you, not the way a woman such as yourself should be cared for. When my mother sent me away, she also wrote me out of the family will. I have nothing but my faith, Rey.”  
  
Rey took his hand and pressed it to her beating heart. “And I am asking for nothing more.” She tilted her head to meet his lips. Pouring all of her passion for him and all of her need to heal his pain into the kiss, it soon grew fervent and wild.  
  
Ben cupped the back of her head with one hand, the other hand wrapped firmly around her narrow waist. He moaned into her mouth, sending a delicious shiver racing down her spine.  
  
His lips broke from hers and moved to the pulse point of her warm neck. He suckled at it gently, causing Rey to gasp. She felt her nipples stiffen through her thin nightgown. Ben was devouring her skin now, his hands roving over her needy body. When he reached up to cup and squeeze her breasts, she mewled plaintively.  
  
This time it was her hands that moved to remove her nightgown. She was offering a choice: love, or loyalty, and she needed every weapon she possessed on her side. She quickly stripped it over her head and pushed down her small-clothes, as Ben looked on, amazed.  
  
Rey stood naked in the silent sanctuary while Ben’s eyes devoured her. Then, he rushed in.  
  
His mouth seemed to be everywhere at once. It sucked greedily on her stiff pink nipples, wet slurping sounds echoing through the high walls. It nipped a trail down her flat stomach to the white curve of her hip bone, leaving teeth marks like footprints in snow. It licked a flat stripe across the ticklish skin of her inner thigh, forcing throaty moans from Rey as it came dangerously close to her dripping sex.  
  
Ben met her searing gaze over the terrain of her body. He had laid her down gently across the altar and she propped herself on elbows to see him. Taking hold of her calves, he spread her legs wide. She was completely vulnerable to him, exposed and helpless to his hunger. He had become a man starved, and here was a feast for kings.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you between your legs now, Rey. I’m going to eat you right up,” he told her, his voice gruff with desire.  
  
“Yes Father, please make your wicked girl feel good. I want your mouth on my sex, please taste me,” Rey moaned. The filthy words that spilled out hardly seemed to be her own.  
  
“You ask so nicely, my little vixen. Father Ren knows just what you need.” With those words, he lowered his mouth to her pussy and began to lap at it with his wide flat tongue. He licked her clean from her drooling opening all the way to the top of her hood, again and again.  
  
Rey’s vision went spotted, so intense was the sensation coming from her legs. “Ohhh God, yes yes more please more,” she squealed, burning hot with shame at the way he made her beg for it.  
  
Ben wiggled his tongue deep into her opening and fucked her orally, servicing her as she lay spread on the altar. Rey ground her hips into his face, grabbing at his thick hair and pushing him ever further toward her body. She would explode if she didn’t cum soon, the pressure was coiling so tight in her belly.  
  
He began to flick his tongue quickly against her clit, fluttering in rapid succession then stopping to swirl and lick around the swollen nub. He inserted a long finger into her at the same time as his face was buried in her folds, nose rubbing against her clit hood as though he would unearth a treasure. His plush lips made a seal over her tiny cunt and he fingered her with wild abandon, having lost all his self control.  
  
It was too erotic to bear. Rey came and came, waves of ecstasy taking her under. She felt her body unleash a torrent of juice onto his handsome face, shudders ripping through her like petite earthquakes. Her moans echoed off the painted ceiling in a hymn of bliss.  
  
“Beautiful,” Ben whispered, as he watched her orgasm subside. He pulled her to sitting and gave her a deep kiss. She could taste the tang of her juices on his lips.

 

Breaking the kiss, he whispered into her ear, “I’m not done with you yet, Little Lamb.” She shuddered at the promise and the threat.  
  
He reached for a white candle that sat upon the altar. With one hand on her chest, he pushed her gently down again until she lay flat. Then, tipping the candle carefully forward, he let the melted wax drip from the cup onto her flushed chest.  
  
“Ah!!” She cried as the burning drops of liquid hit her skin, shrinking as they rapidly cooled.  
  
He trailed the candle slowly across her body, and her back arched with each scorching splatter. When he covered both her nipples in it, the tightening wax tantalized every pulsing nerve.  
  
Ben made a fiery line down the valley of her stomach but stopped mercifully before reaching her cunt. Holding her gaze with molten eyes, he blew the flame from the altar candle and flipped it in his hand to the cool end.  
  
With his free hand he unlaced his breeches and let his thick manhood spring forward. He straddled her naked body, shimmying upward until his engorged cock was pointed to her lips. Rey gulped, looking up at him through her lashes.  
  
“Say your blessing like a good girl and open wide, Miss Kenobi.” His dark obsession was back, judging by the edge in his voice.  
  
Ben’s cock bobbed slightly with the heaving of Rey’s chest. His weight was mostly on his knees on either side of her, but she could still feel the pressure he laid on her rib cage. It made her dizzy, like she was floating above herself.  
  
She tentatively opened her mouth and he grasped his cock, smearing the wet head over her lips, coating them with his precum. When she opened wider, he rolled his hips forward and entered her with the tip.  
  
Rey’s eyes grew large at the first taste of his cock, a mixture of salt and tang. They grew larger still when she felt the smooth cylinder of the candle end pressing at her slit.  
  
Little by little, Ben would roll his hips forward and go deeper into her mouth, then he would rock back and work the candle into her cunt in turn. The resulting see-saw motion of being filled continuously in both of her holes was bringing Rey quickly to another enormous orgasm.  
  
Her mouth was filled to capacity, yet she could handle barely half of his length. She felt the head of his cock nudge the back of her throat and nearly choked around it. Ben became a man possessed. At the flex of her throat muscles he gave an animalistic groan, and twirled the candle harder in her vulnerable snatch. Saliva ran down the corners of her mouth and her nostrils flared with the exertion of finding air. Her muffled moans and deep gurgling sounds mixed with the noise of Ben’s fevered grunting.

  
Her cunt clenched spasmodically around the candle, the small drips of dried wax on its shaft giving a ridged texture to the wicked instrument. Suddenly, Ben stopped his thrusting there and left the candle in place around her gaping sex. His own muscles were twitching and he rubbed furiously against her clit, reaching back blindly as he impaled her rosy lips with his prick.

  
Rey expelled his cock with a wet pop, turning her head and gasping for breath. Her second climax of the night was threateningly close. To her disbelief, she came again, harder than before. Her pussy overflowed with slick and her legs thrashed wildly, but Ben’s weight held her firm.  
  
Seeing her orgasm pushed him violently over the edge. He cried out in a choked moan, squeezing his cock which shot thick streams of hot semen over Rey’s beautiful face and tits. It splashed her like perverted holy water, painting her lips and cheeks white. Her mouth opened in surprise and some of the salty liquid reached her tongue.  
  
Ben was breathing heavily above her, and returned to his senses at last. Gently he withdrew the protruding candle, causing her to softly groan. He swung his legs over so he was no longer sitting astride her, now kneeling at her side. He removed his shirt and used it to wipe her skin clean, bending down to place tender kisses on her cheeks, eyelids, and chin. Finally he scrubbed her body of the dried wax.

  
Rey lay on the altar limply, feeling as though she had just returned from running a long way. Her heart throbbed a rhythm in her chest and her legs felt stretched and weak. Her jaw ached and her sex was tingling. She sighed deeply, all thoughts drained from her head.  
  
When he had cleaned her thoroughly, he cradled her into his arms against his bare chest.  
  
“Rey, darling, I don’t know what came over me. You bring out a part of me that honestly frightens me sometimes, Little Lamb.” Ben crooned into her ear.  
  
Rey looked up at him achingly. How could such debasement feel like such heaven when it came at his hand? It was an addiction she could not defeat.  
  
“You don’t frighten me, Ben. When I look at you, I don’t see a demon. I see a man longing to be free.”  
  
Ben gave her a warm smile and shook his head softly. They sat a while longer in the silence until at last it was time to go.  
  
She dressed once more and he blew out the remaining candles. She reached for him and laced their fingers together. They walked hand in hand through the doors of the sanctuary, down the aisle: a man, and a woman. By day they had their parts to play but when they were together, only their natural selves mattered.  
  
At the top of the staircase, their paths diverged. Before he turned to leave her, she whispered, “When will you make your journey?”  
  
“Tomorrow there is much to prepare, but by the second dawn I will go.”  
  
She nodded sadly, determined to hold onto their waning days as long as she could. “Do what you must, but come back to me.”  
  
Not wanting to hear his answer, she crept on padded feet back to the attic. Her thoughts were racing as she lay her head on the pillow, and she never saw the pair of chocolate eyes that watched her silently from the left side of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t try this at home, kids :-D
> 
> Thank you for your patience with this chapter. Since I’ve caught up to myself with what is written, my aim is to update at least once a week.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depravity reaches new heights as things begin to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please make sure to read the tags - skip to the second section if you’re looking to avoid religious triggers **
> 
> And good God, under starry skies we are lost  
> And into the breach we got tossed  
> And the water's coming in fast  
> Did I build this ship to wreck?  
> \- Florence + The Machine

Kylo looked down at this once innocent creature and what he saw nearly caused him to cum then and there. Where hesitance had been, there was now a wanton eagerness; what was so recently untouched was now gloriously defiled. A shiver of raw animal lust coursed down his spine at the unholy creation he had wrought. She made him feel like God on His throne.    
  
Miss Kenobi was on her precious knees, skirts lifted and pushed aside. Her little hand worked feverishly in her folds, wrist pumping wickedly while she fingered herself as he had commanded. Her cheeks were hollowed with the effort of sucking, so determined was she to take more of his length than last night. Kylo watched as his turgid cock disappeared into her heavenly throat, only to reappear shining with spit.    
  
She still could not swallow more than three quarters of the shaft, but then again he could not last more than a few minutes in the warmth of her lush mouth. Today she had discovered that swirling her tongue around the fleshy ridges of the crown caused him to throw his head back in an unguarded open-mouthed groan, and he saw the thrill in her eyes at this new power.     
  
He curled his fingers in her glossy chestnut hair, mussing up her neat braid, to guide her mouth back and forth in a quickening rhythm. He clenched his thighs to stall his climax, but the sight of his debauched madonna moaning with her rosy lips stretched around his manhood was speeding the inevitable.    
  
There was a fever in the knowledge that they would be parted for at least four days hence. Four long days without her bright eyes or her angelic voice; four days he would spend revisiting the hell that was his youth. Where yesterday the flood of memories inundated him in denial and sadness, today they were twisting into wrath. The anger paced through his body like a caged beast, first settling in his burning brain then moving restlessly to his soured gut. Now it made its home in his engorged cock, and he poured his dark malice into their sex as though it would exorcise the demons within.    
  
“Don’t you dare cum yet, you sinful girl,” he growled. “I have more plans for that naughty cunt after you have drank my seed.”    
  
Rey hummed in response, the vibrations threatening to tip him over the edge. Still he wanted more: more of her submissive whimpers muffled by her lewd meal, more of her hot saliva overflowing her lips, more of her maddening tongue stroking him undone.    
  
“Unlace your bodice and let me look upon those pretty tits,” he commanded roughly.   
  
She moved her left hand from his cock, where it steadied her descent onto the shaft, to the laces of her dress. Her right hand kept stroking dutifully at her swollen sex, spreading her lips open to allow him to see how wet she had become. He fisted her hair, slowing her mouth to a sensual pumping, and tore his eyes from her lurid display to watch her gown slip from her shoulders. When the creamy globes came into view, he couldn’t help his sharp inhalation. They were peach-sized and perfect, with erect nipples just begging to be sucked.    
  
Skidding along the edge of a massive orgasm, he managed to groan out one last order. “Pinch your nipples, little vixen. Make your Father cum.”    
  
She shut her eyes tightly, a blush growing high on her cheeks. Her face was a wondrous mixture of lust and shame, but she obeyed him like a living doll. She let him pose her as he liked, take his pleasure from her body as he liked, and debase her as he liked. Kylo knew there were only a few breaths before he would be spilling his hot semen down her virginal throat, one more purity she sacrificed to his carnal needs.    
  
Rey grasped her nipple firmly between her fingers and pinched the sensitive bud, flooding it red with heat. When Kylo reached down to do the same to its twin, it was too much for the girl. He twisted it almost cruelly as he watched her pussy begin to spasm and her moans around his cock became a symphony. Juices gushed onto her pale shaking thighs, unable to hold back her climax any longer.    
  
Fear flashed across her pretty features and she lifted her eyes to his, pleading silent mea culpas for having broken his command. She was so humbled before him, so broken by her desire to please, that he felt his head swim with the intoxication of control.    
  
He lost himself then. Shot after shot lanced through his body, his knees almost buckling at the sudden exodus of blood from his limbs. It was the middle of the day, and the other wards were taking their leisure time. He knew he should be quiet but the sensation was too consuming.    
  
_ “Fucking hell!” _ He shouted before he could stop himself. Kylo was sure he had never felt anything this magnificent and never would again.    
  
Rey’s mouth was filling with the volume of his seed. How was it possible that he came for her day after day and yet there was so much remaining in his heavy balls?  _ A miracle,  _ his inner devil whispered.    
  
He watched as her eyes widened in shock, the unfamiliar taste of a man’s milk settling on her tongue. It was depraved but so delicious seeing her cute features contort in surprise, but she did not pull away. Instead she took two, then three, large gulps and held his cock in her mouth as it softened.    
  
Kylo nodded, giving her leave to withdraw, and she did so with a choked splutter. A thick droplet of cum had collected obscenely at the corner of her mouth. Kylo swiped it with the pad of his thumb and then pushed it between her swollen lips. She closed her eyes as she licked it clean, the filthy sight creating an aftershock of climax to ripple through him.    
  
“Such a remarkable little trollop,” he rumbled. “And so nearly avoided your punishment. But you just couldn’t keep that greedy quim from what it craved, could you, my girl?”    
  
Rey lowered her eyes, her expression telling her disappointment at having broken the rule. “Forgive me, Father,” she whispered.    
  
“Forgive you? Hm. Perhaps. Once you have made proper penance.” With his eyes he cut a line to his desk. “Stand up Miss Kenobi, and present your bottom.”    
  
When she stood and began to lift her skirts again, he stopped her. “Not here, Little Lamb, over the desk. Face down. And do away with that frock, won’t you?”    
  
Rey trembled at the knowledge of what was to come, but she submissively let the loosened bodice fall to the floor, leaving her dress in a heap beside her discarded bloomers. Positioning herself over the furniture as instructed, her bare buttocks jutted out temptingly like an animal in heat.    
  
Kylo licked his lips and moved behind her. He stood close, his thighs in his cassock nearly touching hers. His insatiable cock was already growing hard again and his mind reeled at how easy it would be to mount her in this position.    
  
Shoving away the bestial impulse, he slipped her yellow hair ribbon from her braid and loosened the strands to fall about her shoulders and back. Kylo tossed the ribbon aside and gathered up a fistful of her silken locks. Rey whimpered when he tugged her head by the hair, her face lifted to look in the direction of the window behind his desk. The faintest reflection of their form was ghosted into the glass: Rey helplessly bent over the desk and Kylo’s hulking black figure pinning her there.    
  
He bid her to watch the translucent version of herself gaping back at her when Kylo cracked his palm against her ass. With one hand knotted in her hair and the other peppering smacks to her tender flesh, he delivered a barrage of punishment to his disobedient lover.    
  
Each spank caused Rey to jerk forward slightly, further pulling at her scalp. In between spanks, Kylo would flex his fingers to scratch soothingly at her head and with his other hand, rub circles that spread the heat of the impact over her firm cheeks.    
  
After five hard smacks that left her gasping, he moved his hand from her ass to her soaked slit. Her lower lips were a frothy mess and his middle finger slipped easily into her entrance. She moaned as he fucked his finger in and out at a slow pace and leaned closer to rasp into her ear, “Does this excite you, Miss Kenobi? To be spread open shamelessly across my desk? Do you enjoy being punished for your sins? Your cunt is gushing over my hand like an eager whore. I think you love it.”    
  
Rey mewled in response, but it wasn’t satisfactory.   
  
“Confess, Rey; confess how having your Very Reverend spank your delicious ass and probe your pulsing sex makes you feel.” Adding a second thick digit, he relished the feel of her, stretched and shuddering around him. He corkscrewed his fingers inside, curling to stroke her inner walls.    
  
“I…I love it Father!” She sputtered out. Her eyes were still watching the window glass, and the lustful agony of her own expression seemed to make her grow even wetter. “Please punish me harshly, Father. It’s what I deserve!”   
  
“Oh yes, my wicked girl, it  _ is _ what you deserve, and you shall have what your heart desires.” He leaned even farther forward, his weight pressing her almost painfully into the desk. His warm lips brushed the shell of her ear, voice rumbling low. “Not just a punishment, Little Lamb, _ a whole damn reckoning _ .”    
  
His mind raced with possibilities of how to make good on his promise. Straightening his posture, he considered her defenseless ass and pussy, so beautifully spread before him. A depraved idea whispered to him then, straight from the fires of hell. His inner devil had claimed the reins and his only recourse was to endure the turbulent ride.    
  
His hand moved almost of its own accord to the pocket of his cassock. It slipped inside and found the object that rested there faithfully, undeserving of such evil intent. Kylo withdrew his hand with an intensity burning on his furrowed brow, and his blood-red rosary beads coiled around his clenched fist.    
  
He could see the muscles in Rey’s thighs tense as she awaited his judgment. He knelt down behind her, eye level with the puffed lips of her slick sex, but his gaze was drawn to a higher target.    
  
She gasped sharply when his fingers came to rest on either side of her taut cheeks, and began squirming wildly when those fingers started to pry.    
  
“Ahh...ahh no Father, don’t, you mustn’t look at me there,” Rey wailed.    
  
“Unless you intend to use your relent word, Rey Kenobi, then you should not deign to tell me what I must or mustn’t do,” he barked, punctuating the point with a sharp slap to her cheek. She yelped, but said no more.   
  
He resumed his mission to spread her open, his eyes burning when at last her most secret place was revealed. A perfect pink rosebud lay at the center of her cheeks, crinkled and clenching in a bashful display.    
  
Kylo’s right hand that held his rosary kept her cheeks pried open, and he brought his left hand to his mouth. He spat into his open palm, spreading the thick saliva across his fingers and reached toward her waiting hole.    
  
Her ass tensed together at his first touch, but his strong hand stayed it firm. The breath Rey was holding forced out in a gust when he began to stroke the puckered opening. A constant stream of  _ oh’s _ and  _ ah’s _ from her sweet mouth spurred him onward toward his prize.    
  
Gently but insistently he worked the tip of his pointer, slick with spit, into the tight ring. He held there, giving her time to adjust to the foreign sensation and him to marvel at her offer of trust. Kylo let another long stream of spit fall from his lips to plop wetly onto his finger, and used the extra lubrication to push into her ass until he was buried midway to the knuckle.    
  
“Father! Ah, it’s stretching me, oh God please!” Rey cried as she squirmed.    
  
“Taking the Lord’s name in vain, at a time like this?” He chuckled darkly. “You never learn, do you, little girl?”    
  
He withdrew his finger and wiped the excess spit over her hole, which twitched at the void left behind. It was soon to be filled again, however, by something much more obscene.    
  
Kylo held the rosary beads doubled together, and pressed them against her warm skin. Slowly and smoothly he pushed the strand of beads into her body, using the weight of his thighs to hold her jerking legs still.    
  
“What - what are you doing to me? Ohhhh,” Rey whined pitifully but her cunt was pouring slick onto her thighs in defiant contradiction of her protests.    
  
When he had crammed the entire string into her stretched orifice, with only the silver crucifix hanging down like a perverted door knocker, he smiled impishly at his handiwork.    
  
“You have sinned without repentance, Miss Kenobi. There is only one thing that can save you now.”    
  
“Please, Father, anything, anything, only have mercy on me!”   
  
“You must say your prayers, and say them true. I shall know if you don’t mean them. Come now, let us count the rosary.” And with that he gave the crucifix a little tug, letting one red bead pop free of the muscle holding it in place.    
  
“Ahhh!!” She cried.   
  
“Your prayers, Miss Kenobi,” he reminded her, an edge of threat creeping in.    
  
“I’m sorry! Ah… _ Our F—Father…who art in heaven…h-h-hallowed be thy name! _ ” she began, stumbling her way awkwardly through the words.    
  
When she had reached “our kingdom come,” he unceremoniously shoved the first two fingers of his left hand deep into her weeping snatch, interrupting her focus beyond repair. She keened as he began to slowly thrust his fingers inside, her thighs clenching rapidly.    
  
“Please, Father, I need to cum again,” she begged.    
  
“Not until you have said your prayers!  _ All of them.  _ Now begin again or I shall spank your ass raw.”    
  
She drew a shaky breath and tried to resume. “ _ Thy will..thy will be done…” _ __  
  
When she had finished, he praised her heartily, and then pulled out another bead. “Very good, Sweetling, you did so good for me. Now onto your Hail Marys. Quickly now.”    
  
“ _ Hail Mary...f—full of grace...The Lord is w-with thee…” _ __  
  
Each agonizing tug of the rosary as it slid from her tight virgin ass made her whimper and squirm. Kylo relished tantalizing her sensitive flesh and the way her voice quavered with humiliation while she recited her prayers. He tortured her through the whole long ritual, his thick digits never leaving her wet heat.    
  
As he neared the end of the strand, he increased the pace of his fingering, twisting his palm so his thumb rubbed roughly against her clit.    
  
“You have earned my permission, Miss Kenobi,” he told her, sensing she could hold back no more.    
  
The words were all she needed. Her moans increased to a fever pitch and her legs were shaking with the force of another powerful orgasm. Her cunt and asshole spasmed as she came, one gripping his fingers and the other at last expelling the final bead.    
  
Rey’s legs collapsed beneath her. Her full weight rested upon his desk and she panted openly, thoroughly spent. As she lay there in the afterglow, Kylo gently stroked her back and shoulders.   
  
“Shh, shh my girl. Such a good girl for me.”   
  
He was preparing to help her back into her clothes when there came a knock at the door.   
  


* * *

  
Kylo looked to Rey and she stared back, both gripped by a cold panic. He raised his finger to his lips to indicate that she should be silent and his gaze darted around the room urgently, seeking a place for her to hide. There was no time for her to dress now and they would have to improvise.    
  
He motioned for her to go behind and under the desk, scooping her clothes up quickly and shoving them into her arms. She shook her head frantically “no” until he whispered in a low hiss that there was no other choice. Hers was the expression of a doe caught in a trap, and the hairs were standing on the back of his neck.    
  
_ Calm yourself,  _ he thought.  _ Discover who knocks, and convince them to leave.  _   
  
When Rey had tucked herself away under the desk, he straightened his cassock, willing his treacherous cock to abate, and walked toward the door. The visitor knocked again.    
  
“Just a moment please,” he called, trying desperately to clear the husk from his voice.    
  
With a steadying breath he opened the door to find one of the wards standing before him.    
  
Rose Tico.    
  
“Ah, um, Miss Tico. What may I do for you?” He asked.   
  
The girl lowered her eyes shyly. “Father Ren, please forgive me for disturbing you. Sister Holdo told me I could find you here, and Rey said she was spending her time in the garden today so I thought if you were alone, perhaps we could speak?”    
  
“I see. Is your matter most urgent, Miss Tico? I have much to prepare before my journey tomorrow. Perhaps one of the other priests…?”   
  
“It’s about Rey,” she blurted out quickly.    
  
Kylo couldn’t help the way his eyes widened in surprise. His eyebrows arched and he willed the saliva to return to his mouth. “Rey? Er, Miss Kenobi? Whatever do you mean?”    
  
“Can I please come in, Father? I’ll only be a moment.”   
  
Kylo glanced over his shoulder to the desk. Rey was still out of sight and he feared whatever Miss Tico had to say should best be shared in private. He inhaled slowly, and opened the door wider.    
  
“Of course Miss Tico, please, have a seat.”    
  
He was inordinately glad that the chair rested by the hearth, furthest from the desk. He gestured for her to sit and positioned his imposing frame between the two, leaning back against the desk in front of the space where Rey crouched in the hollow.    
  
Rose looked at him quizzically, perhaps at his informal posture, but he had larger worries to attend.    
  
“What troubles you, my child?” He asked, forcing himself to use the voice he reserved for the confessional.    
  
Rose looked to her hands folded in her lap. She twisted them anxiously. “As I was saying, Father, I’m concerned about Rey. She has been acting most peculiar, and I am at a loss as to why. She’s my closest friend in the world, Your Reverence, and if I can help her in some way then I must try.”   
  
Kylo breathed a small sigh of relief. She may be suspicious, but Rose clearly had no proof. Else why come to him to unburden herself? He could handle this.  _ He must.  _ __  
  
“Peculiar? I haven’t noticed such during our meetings. Perhaps she merely feels a sort of detachment, now that her time at the abbey grows short. It would be only natural,” he spoke gently, an attempt to lull her fears to sleep.    
  
The girl shook her head slightly, then met his gaze, worry etched on her smooth features. “I…I thought so too, at first, but it seems more than that now. One could forgive her for being so distracted during lessons. It’s a grand venture she’s about to embark on, after all. But lately I fear she’s become...” she trailed into silence.    
  
Kylo quirked a brow for her to continue. After a pregnant pause where she seemed to be searching for the words, she went on.   
  
“I’ve never known Rey to be disobedient. I know she struggles with her faith, but the Scripture tells us that faith is like a mustard seed. Still we must follow His commandments, and she always has done so dutifully. Yet now I see her disregarding the rules, being punished by the nuns, and so harshly…there were bruises on her skin as purple as a plum. She tried to pretend they came from a small infraction, but whatever she had done must have been serious, to warrant such discipline. And then she told me she was wrestling mightily with sin, and losing the battle…Father, I fear for her very soul.” Rose’s eyes grew misty and her voice was pinched.    
  
The air felt drained from the room. What exactly had Rey told her? His heartbeat boomed in his ears and he struggled to school his expression.    
  
“What sort of sin has Rey committed?” He pressed.   
  
“She wouldn’t tell me, Father, but she said it had brought her shame. But last night she…she left our bed after curfew, and was gone for more than an hour. I don’t know what she’s become ensnared by, Father Ren, but I know she respects you. You are our link to the Holy Spirit on earth. You intercede for us and live as an example of the purity of Christ. If anyone can rescue Rey from her demons, I know it is you. Please, will you speak with her?”    
  
Words failed him. His mind was screaming “ _ Hypocrite!” _ So loudly that Rose’s voice seemed distant and dim. He opened his mouth numbly but to no effect. On instinct, his hand reached to his rosaries and he instantly recoiled as from a serpent’s bite.    
  
“I…I will, yes. Of course I will. You’re a good friend to her, Miss Tico.”    
  
Rose smiled. “Thank you, Father. I know it shall make all the difference. I won’t take any more of your time, then.” She rose to her feet, and he stepped forward to escort her back to the door.    
  
An expression flashed suddenly across her face, stark but fleeting. Her gaze seemed drawn to something beyond, in the corner of the room. Kylo followed her eyes but was unsure of what she saw. The moment passed as quickly as it came.    
  
He placed a soft hand on the back of her shoulder, guiding her gently to the exit.   
  
“Thank you for speaking to me, Miss Tico. I shall think earnestly on your words.”    
  
He closed the door behind her and turned to slump against it, his face buried in his large hand.    
  
Rey was crawling out from under the desk, her hair a mess, sweat trickling freely down her reddened face.    
  
“What was  _ that _ , Ben?” She said, bristling with indignation. She quickly pulled her clothes on again, jerking the laces of her bodice so tight he thought they might snap. “Hiding me beneath your desk like some…some lap dog! You could’ve let the knock go unanswered!”    
  
His eyes cut to her face defensively and he huffed a breath of disgust. “Should I have paraded you naked before your bedmate then? Given her proof to have us both excommunicated? Holdo told her where to find me, and you chose a feeble lie. I wouldn’t have had to hide you if  __ you had done as I asked  and been discrete!”   
  
“Discrete?” She cried shrilly. “Was it discrete to send me back to lessons without my small clothes so that any breeze might drive me insane? Or was it discretion that compelled you to smuggle me into your chambers in the dead of night, only a wall between us and your holy brethren?”   
  
Kylo clenched his jaw and looked away, a lump pressing sharply at his throat. She was right. He had only himself to blame. They were his desires, his weaknesses, that brought them to this place. His buzzing brain would not subside, and he strained with great effort to cut through the noise.    
  
Rubbing his temples with a sigh, he looked to Rey. Her arms were crossed over her chest protectively, as though shielding her from his anger, and it broke his heart to see.    
  
“Rey…” he began, as though just her name could save him. “I’ve put you in a terrible way. But if you have ever had faith in me, my girl, I ask you to hold onto it now.”   
  
Her icy stare seemed to defrost slightly, so he pressed on.   
  
“Rose doesn’t know anything about us, not truly. She suspects you are in trouble. You must show her that you are well. While I am gone, you must put forth your best face and cast off her doubts. Be dutiful in your studies and mindful of the nuns. Sing every hymn and say every blessing. When I return…the Admiral will be…our time will be short.”    
  
He crossed the room and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. She appeared unconvinced, but she did not pull away. “When I return, I want our last days together to be happy ones. I want you to…to remember me fondly.” His voice was tinged by sadness.    
  
Rey looked deeply into his mahogany eyes, brimming with regret, and sighed wistfully. “Oh, Ben. How could I ever forget?”   
  


* * *

Rose walked in a daze back to the attic. Her classmates bustled around her, spending their precious last moments before afternoon lessons began. But for her, time had slowed to an ominous crawl.    
  
She had gone to the one person she believed could help her best friend. The person Rey had spent more time with over the last few weeks than anyone, even more than with Rose herself. The person that was called to be their Very Reverend, their confessor and holy guide.    
  
And he had lied to her, all the time, through his charming smile.    
  
As she thought back on their meeting, the signals flagged in her mind like a lighthouse at sea. The smell of the room was pungent, like damp bodies on a midsummer night. His posture was strange, as though he were pained to stand. His thick hair was rumpled carelessly upon his head, his collarino a bit too loose. It had seemed very odd, but she dismissed it in her haste.    
  
Until she stood to leave and her eye caught a flash of crumpled yellow on the left corner of his desk. She had seen it almost every day for the past ten years. The silken hair ribbon was the last thing remaining of Satine Kenobi’s, and it was never anywhere that Rey had not been. If she had been in his study with her hair unbraided...

  
Whatever evil Rey found herself ensnared by, Rose thought with trembling horror, it was somehow connected to Father Kylo Ren.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, dear reader, there’s turbulence ahead...
> 
> The anon is off and I can finally say, as myself, THANK YOU to everyone who has read, commented, or given kudos to this fic!! Special thank you to House Dadam of the writing den for helping me to promote during the anon period. 
> 
> I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/zl8pnxovkifxwi592qoq41eue/playlist/2aI8uFi5d02mEWS9kkL5C4?si=rWmxjnwfS0SG-Fn_riIpNQ) Enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben goes home and is plagued by the family ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, my path has gone astray  
> I'm just tryin' to find my way  
> Wandered here from far away  
> I'm just tryin' to find my way...  
> I have made a great mistake  
> Pray The Lord my soul to take  
> Ghosts of who we used to be  
> I can feel them come for me  
> \- Nine Inch Nails

The rolling hills marched by in a bright procession of wooded brown and chartreuse green. Spring was in its full ripe flush, covering the earth with a skirt of wildflowers. The air was fresh with unspoken promise, and larks were perched on every bough to herald the return of life. Yet in spite of the sun kissed weather that lay just beyond the carriage window, there was a thunderous storm raging in Kylo’s heart. 

 

Each mile that passed brought him closer to his aunt and further from his Rey. Rey, whom he had no right in heaven or earth to think of as  _ his _ . Rey, who made his foolish heart dream of futures that could never be, and his unruly body rush headlong to certain disaster if it meant one more kiss from her heated mouth.

 

She drenched the tepid grays of his ascetic life in shades of lurid crimson, and nothing now could erase the knowledge of that beauty from his mind. He knew with a strange mixture of sadness and joy that even after she had left him, her effect on him would remain. He would always remember the tenderness in her touch that night in the sanctuary, and the gentle glow of acceptance in her eyes when he had confessed his darkest sins. 

 

The precious gifts she had given him so freely were precisely the reason he now regarded himself as worthless and vile. He had become careless, swept away in wretched passion of the flesh, in the bestial hunger that always drove him to want  _ more _ . It wasn’t enough to have her at night, he took her also in the afternoon. The nearer they came to her departure, the stronger the cravings grew. Yesterday in the study, he had even been tempted to deflower her, to rob her of the last pure thing she possessed. She had shown him kindness, and he had just taken and taken, as he had his whole life. The same way he betrayed his mother; the same way he had disappointed his aunt.

 

This was to say nothing of how he had shamed his order. The memory of his disgusting impulse to defile his rosaries assaulted him with guilt, even as flashes of Rey’s gorgeous shuddering stirred his traitorous cock in his breeches. He had ravished her upon the holy altar for heaven’s sake! Except it wasn’t the heaven where angels walked that had been on his mind. There was only one kind of paradise he had been living for these past few weeks, and it was found in the slick heat of her willing cunt and mouth. He had made a mockery of his vow, to believe that withholding from that one act of intercourse would preserve him before God. Rose’s words,  _ You live as an example of the purity of Christ _ , repeated in his head like a cruel jest. He was more akin to Judas Iscariot. 

 

Then there was the not small matter that his dalliances were putting Rey in danger. He was a bloody imbecile to think they could hide their affair under everyone’s noses for an indefinite span. Rey was but a blushing girl, not skilled in deception or subterfuge. Nor did she have his ability to live with shame like a trusted friend. It was her innocence that made her achingly irresistible, and her innocence that attracted the lions to their den. It had only been a matter of time before someone noticed the change in her behavior and became suspicious, and what would happen to her then? Her future as a governess, her social eligibility, all of it would be ruined beyond repair and he would be solely to blame. How could he have been so stupid? 

 

All his rationalizations, his justifications, and excuses seemed to come unraveled with each jolting bump of the carriage over the stony road. He tried in vain to steel himself for what lay ahead. If his aunt sensed that he was growing weak in his faith she would seize upon it like a cat upon a wounded bird, no matter how frail her current state of health. Keeping her at arm’s length for the past several years had allowed him to seal his memories in the prison of his mind, but since her letter arrived the inmates had all sprung free and were hunting for blood. His frantic attempts to drown out his thoughts in Rey’s arms had only led him here, trapped in a carriage for hours with nothing but his self-loathing for company. 

 

How utterly pathetic he was. 

 

He had told Rey that Priscilla Snoke had put him on the path to redemption. He had told himself the same, many times. As a boy of ten who had just lost his father’s life and his mother’s love, he couldn’t bear to lose his aunt too. He tried endlessly to please her, no matter how unrelenting her standards became. He weathered every punishment, absorbed every insult, and accepted every amount of blame. When she locked him in a darkened closet without supper because he broke a looking glass in a fit of rage, he prayed for God’s forgiveness. When his maturing body kindled stirrings of lust that earned him a badge of bruises, he learned to suppress his desires. Survival meant compliance, and compliance meant earning her love. The evidence of these truths were etched on his very skin. 

 

It wasn’t until he had almost become a man that he dared to challenge her wishes. He was seventeen and in his second year of university. It had been his aim for quite some time to go into medicine and become a great physician. His aunt, however, had other ideas. She insisted that he finish his general studies before enrolling in seminary so that he could be ordained. Growing bolder with the taste of his newfound freedom, he opposed her by selecting coursework on advanced anatomy and biology. When she found out he had disobeyed, she met with the school president and promptly revoked his tuition. She gave him two choices: live on the streets or enter the Church. He enrolled in seminary before the first snow fell. 

 

Becoming a priest had not been his choice, but within the Church he discovered new purpose. He spent many lonely years growing up in the manor, with only God to listen to his innermost thoughts. Practicing his faith became a way of assuaging the tempest of emotions when they reached an unstable pitch; there was a calm in the careful rituals that contradicted the chaos of his mind. 

 

Once he earned his frock, he even found something soothing about the practice of receiving confession. Each penitent pouring out their hearts and their failings found grace in God’s eyes through Kylo’s prescriptions. He tried to echo the forgiveness promised in the Scripture as a salve for their troubled souls, just as he had needed to hear all those long and painful years ago. Thus, he discovered solace in his new profession, and began the arduous work of forgetting both the hopes and the fears that came before. 

 

When he was offered the position of Rector at St. Jedi’s, he accepted it with immense gratitude. Orphans occupied a tender spot in his heart and he found joy in the work of protecting vulnerable youth. Never once had he been tempted to impurity toward any ward before he met Rey Kenobi. His struggles with lust did not subside with his ordainment, but he felt he maintained some measure of control. Now the Pandora’s box was flung irrevocably open, and he was helpless before the demons unleashed. 

 

The carriage crested a high hill and the manor came into view, looming like a great vulture against the pure blue sky. Kylo gripped the lip of the carriage window at the sight of it, a clenched knot curling sickly in his stomach. He said a quick prayer for courage as the driver rolled to a stop in front of the wide columned porch. 

 

Skywalker Estate had been the family home of his mother when she was a child. Her parents, Anakin and Padme had raised three children there: Priscilla, and her younger twin siblings Luke and Leia. They made their fortune in politics, and though Anakin had risen to the office of governor, it was Padme who represented the true power in the family. 

 

In grander days, the manor was home to lavish balls, elegant dinners hosting dignitaries of state, and holidays that boasted every trapping of gay excess. Now, its cracked banisters thirsted for a coat of paint and the windows all bulged with signs of rot. The columns of the portico sagged beneath the house’s weight, as though years of tragedy had grown too heavy to bear. 

 

It was an apt metaphor, for the halcyon years had long since faded. Leia was the first to break her mother’s heart by choosing a rapscallion with no family name for a suitor. When they threatened her with disownment, the headstrong girl had called their bluff. She thusly departed her childhood home with her fiancé, leaving clouds of scandal in her wake. Luke had floundered in her absence, and was twenty-one when the madness set in. He was placed in the best asylum in the provence, and there he languished to this day. 

 

Only Priscilla had remained to fulfill their legacy. She married well, to a railroad mogul named Tobias Snoke, and returned to the estate when her parents’ health faltered. But she was barren, and her husband eventually cast her aside. Anakin’s fortune trickled down through the years and the manor staff grew leaner as the family name darkened into obscurity. By the time Kylo - then Ben - came to live with her, it was a rambling monument to fallen ghosts. 

 

A gentleman and a woman, modestly dressed, stood somberly in front of the porch steps. It had been several years since Kylo laid eyes on them, but they were unmistakable just the same. The man was Mr. Tarkin, his aunt’s head valet, and the woman her head housekeeper, Ms. Daala. They stood with hands clasped behind their backs, postures stiff with pride despite the deteriorating grandeur of the estate. They were the sole remainder of the household staff, and they kept watch over Priscilla like endangered birds guarding their last living egg: fiercely, and in willful ignorance of the world beyond. 

 

Mr. Tarkin approached the carriage and opened the door where Kylo sat. His sunken face was stoic, as befitted his profession, but there was a sentimental gleam in his tired eyes.  

 

“Welcome home, Master Solo,” he greeted Kylo with a nod. 

 

“Thank you, Mr. Tarkin. It is very good to see you looking well.” Kylo smiled at the old man, feeling the smallest part of his nerves settling. A memory of Tarkin teaching him how to tie a Windsor knot for his dinner attire bubbled warmly to the surface. 

 

“As it is to see you, Sir, though the circumstances are not ideal.” Tarkin collected Kylo’s case from the luggage trunk while Kylo paid the coachman. 

 

“I shall need you to fetch me two days hence, Gentle-sir. As close to first light as you can,” Kylo instructed the driver. 

 

“Aye, Father, as you like it.” The coachman snapped the reins and the horses started down the lane. 

 

Mr. Tarkin’s mouth twitched downward, but he spoke not. 

 

“You can speak freely, Mr. Tarkin. I’m not a Master now, just a priest, and I am like to have heard worse,” Kylo drew him out gently. 

 

“Very well, Sir. It is just that I had hoped you would be staying a while. The Mistress has wanted for your presence so, and it is not known how long her health can remain. It should be you to say her last rites, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.” 

 

Kylo sighed softly. Had his aunt truly missed him? She had waited to call him home until there seemed no other choice. His state of mind was too precarious to risk on hope. 

 

“I quite agree, Mr. Tarkin, and yet it pains me to say that I must return to the abbey anon. There is a matter of great importance which requires my attention and cannot be completed by another.”

 

“More important than your last living family, Sir?” The old man bowed his head as soon as the words had left his mouth, knowing he had overstepped. 

 

Kylo winced, but he clasped his hand on Tarkin’s frail shoulder as if to excuse him. 

 

“I believe it is what she would have me do, remarkable as it may seem, Mr. Tarkin. Yet let us pray that her suffering is quickly passed.” 

 

The two men approached the house, exchanging no further words, but Kylo stopped to greet Ms. Daala. She took no pains to hide her joy at their reunion as Tarkin had, and threw her arms about his waist, propriety be damned. 

 

“Master Solo — Ben! You’ve come back to us!” The old woman cried. 

 

Kylo returned her hug, looking gently down at her. Her once flaxen hair was now threaded with silver but her eyes still twinkled youthfully when she smiled. 

 

“Only for a short while, I’m afraid. But it is wonderful to see you, Ms. Daala.” 

 

Ms. Daala let him out of the embrace, stiffening again to her station under Mr. Tarkin’s weighty glance. She ushered him inside the manor, and Kylo was glad for the respite from the midday heat. 

 

“As you say, Master Solo. I have made your favorite for supper, Sir: roast duck with gravy, fingerling potatoes, and citron cake,” she told him with pride. 

 

Kylo couldn't help a small happy peal of laughter. “Ms. Daala, you shall have me busting straight out of my cassock before my return. I don’t believe I’ve had roast duck since I was ordained.”

 

“The Word of God may be the bread of the soul, Sir, but it wouldn’t hurt them to let you indulge your stomach now and then!” 

 

“Quite so, Ms. Daala, quite so,” he replied with a smirk. 

 

“Well, Sir. I shall let you get settled. I have prepared your old bedroom with fresh linens. Please do let me know if there is anything you require.” 

 

“Thank you Ms. Daala. I’m sure I will be quite comfortable.” 

 

The housekeeper nodded and left in the direction of the kitchen. Mr. Tarkin had already delivered his case to his room while he had been speaking to Ms. Daala, leaving Kylo alone in the foyer. 

 

The warmth he had felt in the servants’ presence died in the silence of the cavernous house. He sensed the solemn eyes of his ancestors upon him as they gazed down from their canvassed prisons on the wall. Anakin Skywalker posed somberly with his wife Padme, standing behind the blue chair where she sat. His uncle Luke was painted to be holding a hunting rifle, poised to strike down a great beast. Priscilla’s portrait captured her in dewy youth, before age had ravaged and twisted her body. Even as a woman in her late teens, however, there was still an unforgiving glint in her eye. 

 

There was no likeness of his mother, the painting likely rotting in the attic or destroyed after her dramatic departure. There was one of him, though - not a canvass, but a yellowed photograph in a round wooden frame. He remembered sitting for it, dressed in his clothes for Mass, being scolded by his aunt when he squirmed. It was taken soon after he arrived at the manor, and Kylo shuddered when he looked into the haunted eyes of the boy that he was. There was already so much care on his brow for one so young, and the years ahead would only add to the weight. What he wouldn’t give if he could reach that boy now…

 

“Benedict?” Someone called, interrupting his musings. 

 

Kylo turned in the direction of the voice and greeted its owner with a fond smile. It was Lor San Tekka, the family solicitor. His smile faded, however, when he realized that if San Tekka was here, his aunt’s condition must indeed be dire. 

 

He climbed the stairs to meet Lor above, grasping his hand into a hearty shake. Lor wrapped his other hand on the back of Ben’s, a wide grin on his aging face. 

 

“Look how old you’ve become!” Kylo teased him good-naturedly.

 

Lor eyed his cassock up and down, at last fixing his gaze on the heavy crucifix that hung from Kylo’s neck. “Something far worse has happened to you,” he quipped. 

 

They shared a laugh that dissolved to silence, neither knowing quite how to proceed. Lor had been a steady presence in Kylo’s life before he departed for the priesthood. He was more than just the family’s solicitor, having been a close friend of Kylo’s grandparents. He knew the Skywalker children well, and treated Ben with invaluable kindness when he returned to live with Snoke. 

 

Lor’s cerulean blue eyes studied Kylo’s face a long moment. “You look tired, son. Are you well?”

 

“It has just been a long journey, and an unfortunate one,” Kylo demurred. “Tell me true, Lor, how is she doing?”

 

Lor’s face was soft with compassion and sorrow. “The doctors aren’t able to say for certain. It could be anywhere from hours to a few weeks. All they can tell us is that she will not, in fact, recover.”

 

Kylo nodded slightly, a confused chorus of reactions shouting in his mind. His aunt was a cruel woman, but she was all that he had in the world. He couldn’t process through the heaviness in his stomach, nor the fluttering in his chest. What would life be like once all his ghosts were laid to rest? 

 

“I’m going up to see her,” he told Lor quietly.

 

“She was sleeping when I left the room. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to change and revive yourself after your travel?”

 

“There’s no need. Don’t worry for me.” And with that, Kylo started down the hallway toward the master suite. 

 

With a slow hand, he pushed the door open. The room was large and bore no signs of the passage of time that had been so unkind to the rest of the manor. His aunt was sleeping in a stately poster bed with a golden silk duvet, pillows and furs encasing her like a nest. It was flanked on each side by bed tables, each with kerosene lamps bearing blown-glass shades. Against the right wall was an antique carved dresser and a large oval looking glass in an ornate frame, also gilded. A divan sat at the foot of the bed in rich plum colored brocade. The fireplace sheltered a crackling blaze, despite the temperature outside. It was sweltering, yet he saw his aunt shiver in her sleep. 

 

Priscilla Snoke looked shrunken and gaunt, her skin a sickly yellow and paper thin. Her eyes recessed into her angular skull and her cracked lips were agape as she drew ragged breaths. Her thinning silver hair was fanned upon the dark silk pillow, like ghastly tendrils of fog on an moonless night. 

 

Kylo found it difficult to look at her and hesitated before his approach. He crossed himself and withdrew his copy of the Scripture from its tucked seat in his wide sash. Pulling a chair from the hearth to the bed, he sat beside her and began to read silently from Psalms. 

 

A long while passed before his aunt made a low groan, stirring in her fitful sleep. She reached a frail hand blindly to the bedside. 

 

“What is it, Aunt Priscilla?” His eyes fell to the pitcher of water upon her bed table and the empty cup beside. “Some water?” 

 

He poured a glass and cupped it in his palms, gently raising it to her lips. When she had drank her fill he replaced it on the table. Her dull eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and vacant. 

 

“Papa?” She said, her mind still addled with sleep. 

 

“No, Aunt Priscilla. It’s me. It’s Ben,” Kylo told her softly.

 

“Ben…” She said his name as if searching through some unseen veil. “Ben,” she repeated, more sure this time. “Benedict, you came.” Recognition at last. 

 

“Yes, of course. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Ms. Daala has been working all day in the kitchen.” 

 

“Mm,” she murmured, her voice graveled and slow. “I told her to make you roast duck.” 

 

His brows arched in surprise.  _ She _ had given the instruction to Ms. Daala? For him? “Thank you, Aunt. It was a most welcome surprise.”

 

“When I was a girl, we had duck every week. It was Papa’s favorite too. Oh the banquets we used to throw.” Her eyes grew glassy, lost again in memories. 

 

“Grandfather was quite the gracious host, from what you’ve told me.”

 

“He was, my boy…he was. And as the Governor’s eldest daughter, there was never a lack of eligible young men at the galas to ask me for a dance.”

 

Kylo knew this was where she had met her former husband, Tobias Snoke, but he thought better of bringing his name into her happy recollections. Better to let the elders reinvent the past as they saw fit, for their futures were out of reach. 

 

“I remember once, when we were hosting the ambassador to France, the richest man in the county had come to call. All night over dinner, he gave me such glances as to make me blush. When the music began, he asked me for not one but  _ three _ waltzes, each after another. Mother and Leia and all the other ladies were in such a titter, watching us spin on the floor.” Her sunken face took on a new energy as she spoke of better days. 

 

“What happened to him?” Kylo asked.

 

She grimaced. “After all of the dances, Papa took him aside. ‘What are your intentions with my daughter, Sir?’ He asked him. Papa was known for his temper, you see. He said something that I couldn’t hear, and the man quickly took his leave of us. I never spoke to him again, though we were in the same circles.” 

 

Kylo bowed his head. He had tried to avoid anything painful for her, but his aunt had a way of finding the bitter in every taste of sweet. 

 

Turning her head toward him, she looked at him as if for the first time. He recognized that look: it made him feel like a bug in a bell-jar. The line of his mouth flattened as he willed her to hold her tongue. 

 

“What kept you for so long, Benedict? The doctors tell me that I’ve one foot in the grave,” she said ruefully.

 

“They’ve been wrong before, haven’t they? All we can pray for is that God’s will is done, my lady,” he tried to soothe her. She had always held her faith as a shield, though sometimes it became a cudgel. 

 

His aunt’s face twisted in disgust. “They’re useless, the whole lot of them. All this time they had promised me a cure, preying on a helpless old woman to leech away her last coin. My only prayer now is that God strikes them down where they lie!” Her voice was growing stronger, as though she were drawing strength from the wellspring of her hatred.

 

Kylo schooled his features to sympathy, though inwardly the tides of alarm were rising. When she delved into anger, she often lashed at the first available target - which had always been him. 

 

“I know it seems most unjust, Aunt Priscilla.” Attempting to change the subject, he gripped his Bible. “Would you like me to read to you a while?”

 

“No, Benedict. Tell me how you’ve been faring.”

 

He swallowed and his eyes cut quickly to the left. “I have no complaints. The Lord has been gracious to all of us at the abbey.”

 

“The abbey? You mean your little collection of street urchins?” She chuckled softly but it came out in a choking splutter. “You always did…always did have a soft spot for broken things.” 

 

His posture stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest, the Bible in his lap. “It is holy work we do, my lady. Everyone deserves a second chance, and God charges us to protect the defenseless.” Something fleeting and hot flashed behind his eyes. 

 

She changed tactics. “I was visited by the bishop the other day. As I hear tell it, the coffers of St. Jedi are wearing thin. You must think of your career, my boy, and not waste your talents on a lost cause.”

 

He felt a stinging indignation, but took deep steadying breaths. “I’m afraid that what you heard is true. Yet we have weathered through worse. With God’s hand to guide us, I believe we may yet convince the Church to increase our endowment.”

 

Another choked laugh rattled from her lungs and her watery eyes bulged grotesquely. “Still naive after all these years, aren’t you my boy? The Church has weightier matters than a backwater parish protecting a handful of paupers. Surely even you are not so blind.”

 

Kylo sat in seething silence. The thread in him was fraying to snap. St. Jedi was the one good thing that had come from his forced occupation, and she had no right to cast aspersions.

 

Never heeding his ire, she continued. “It’s just that you could have really  _ been _ something, Benedict. A bishop, even a cardinal. You have such passion, when well applied. But no discipline, I’m afraid. Just like your late mother.”

 

He gritted his teeth until he thought they might shatter.  _ She is a feeble old woman, on the road to death _ , he reminded himself. “Please, Aunt Priscilla, let us not speak ill of the dead.” 

 

Yet despite his sentiment, Priscilla now seemed quite restored to her younger self. She was never more alive than when she was grinding him into the dirt beneath her feet. 

 

“ _ I’m _ nearly dead, and I’ll speak of what and whom I please. I see you have kept your insolence, too. It’s a wonder they gave you a frock at all,” she countered. 

 

“They didn’t  _ give _ me anything. I trained for this. Studied for this. You of all people should appreciate what that took.” 

 

“Well of course I appreciate it. I am the one who made it possible! A fine lot I’ve had in life…a philanderer for a husband, no children of my own, and an ungrateful nephew grown to a coward who wastes what he is given.” Her words hung like a stench in the air. 

 

Kylo looked her full in the face, as though he could claw out her throat with only his eyes. “Whatever I am, it is what you made me.” 

 

The wince that followed gave him away, his body’s memory holding fast to the knowledge that this was when the pain would come. Even in her weakened state, he thought she may yet attempt to slap away his expression. Instead, she used the power she had remaining, considerable as it was, even years later: his guilt. 

 

Her lip curled into a loathsome sneer. “Don’t you dare blame your weaknesses on me, boy. Tell it to your murdered father rotting in his grave. You inherited all of Leia’s immoral nature, and it would be festering in you still if not for me.”

 

She had won. He had lost control, and there was no restraint left to invoke. He shot angrily from his chair, a popped cork ejecting from a shaken bottle. 

 

“Don’t speak of her that way! Say what you want to me but leave her out of this!” He was shouting now.

 

The knife was stuck between his ribs but it still needed a twist. “Let me tell you something about your precious mother. That harlot was four months pregnant with you when Han deigned to make her his wife.”

 

Kylo stumbled backward, his mouth agape. He hadn’t known this part of the story. Could she be lying to hurt him? He retorted weakly with the first thing he could think of. “At least they had  _ love _ .”

 

“Love? What do you know of  _ love _ ? Love is sacrifice, boy. Like the kind of sacrifice I made to take you into my home and undo the work that the Devil was wreaking in you. It’s a lineage of sin you carry, and that is why I pushed you as I did. You would have gotten some strumpet into a bad way too, if I hadn’t beaten the demons out of you.”

 

“I was just a child!” Hot rage was pulsing inside his ears, but his voice cracked with misery. 

 

“And tell me, Father Ren, what does the Scripture instruct us to do with disobedient children? Train up a child in the way it should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it. You act as though you became a vagrant in spite of my efforts. Perhaps you are lacking in ambition, but you are still a man of God. Not bad for a former self-abuser. You should be thanking me.”

 

His head followed his eyes, side to side, a slight shaking that rejected her words. “It was never about saving me. It was always about not shaming  _ you _ .”

 

“You ungrateful wretch! I sacrificed everything to raise you when your infernal fits of passion wrenched out your poor mother’s heart! But if you’d rather go back to your life of sin, be my guest. I’m sure an accomplice to murder and a penniless fornicator would be a fine match for any young woman of distinction.”

 

The hammer struck the final nail, and Rey’s hazel eyes floated to his mind. Snoke was merciless and she deserved to die here, bitter and alone. But she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. He swallowed thickly, biting the inside of his jaw to stay his tears. He wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of her. 

 

Suddenly, the door flew open and Ms. Daala burst through it, breathing heavily from ascending the stairs, her apron askew. “Pardon me for interrupting Mistress, but I heard shouting. Is everything alright?” 

 

Priscilla looked to her with a withering gaze, but she would not grace Kylo with even that. “Indeed, Natasi.  _ Father Ren _ was just leaving.”

 

Kylo rolled back his shoulders, blinking slowly with a drawn sigh. “My apologies, Ms. Daala, I fear I won’t be joining you for dinner after all.” 

 

“But Sir —” she protested, but he brushed past her and into the hall.

 

When he had reached the bottom of the stairwell, his eyes fell again on the row of portraits. The match lit by his aunt dropped suddenly to the gasoline in his belly, and exploded into his charged fist. The punch landed inches beside the photograph of the tormented little boy, cracking the plaster to the shape of his grip. Pain went singing along his arm and into his shoulder, and he reveled in the sweet sting of it. He had knocked the photograph to the ground by the force of the blow, and there he let it lay.

 

Kylo stomped angrily to the entrance porch, gulping lungfuls of clean, thin air. He didn't notice Lor leaning against the far right column, too absorbed in the thoughts that buzzed like vengeful hornets in his brain. 

 

“Benedict?” He called, for the second time that day, though his tone now held only concern. “Ben, what happened?”

 

Embarrassment for his outburst was heating his ears, and he bristled under Lor’s gentle gaze. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled. 

 

Lor crossed the porch to stand beside him, facing outward toward the sun dropping in the pale afternoon sky. “Ben, I’m going to ask you something and I implore you, for your mother’s memory, that you tell me true. Are you happy?”

 

Kylo turned his head to study the old man. What sort of question was that? His brow wrinkled and a fatigue dragged heavily within his tired bones. 

 

“I don’t see what difference it makes whether I’m happy. And I don’t see that she would care, if she were here.” 

 

“You’re wrong. Your mother loved you, Ben,” he replied with a conviction that pricked at Kylo’s pain-chafed soul.

 

“Is that why she sent me here to be punished? Is that why she wrote me out of her will?” The anger was there again, his constant companion since he left the abbey. Coming here had been a mistake, no matter how much obligation compelled him. 

 

“I knew her, son. Before…before Han. I don’t know what was in her heart in the days after his death, but I know she never would have stopped wanting her only son to find the light.” 

 

“I did find the light, but God knows I wish I never had.” 

 

Uncomfortable silence grew like rot between them. Kylo was the first to break, one more indignity he would have to bear. “Can you give me transportation back to town? I’m not wanted here.” 

 

Lor looked to the sky, then glanced back at the manor. He shook his head no but he only said “Yes.” Then, “My horse is in the barn. You can ride her to town and stable her there, then hire another driver to take you back to the abbey. I’ll retrieve her when your coach returns for you. But Ben—”

 

Kylo turned to look him in the eye, out of respect for the kindness the old man had always shown him. 

 

Lor continued his thought. “Someday I hope you will understand that we each do our best with the choices we are given.” 

 

Kylo nodded dourly, then returned inside to fetch his case. He was road weary and badly in need of a bath and a hot meal, but he would find no rest in these haunted halls. Better for everyone that he just moved on. 

 

Kylo went upstairs to change from his cassock to his breeches and riding boots, then quickly gathered the rest of his things. Before he descended the stairs he took one last look toward his aunt’s bedroom, but there was no point in belaboring the obvious. He was alone now, although maybe he always was. 

 

He bid Mr. Tarkin and Ms. Daala a bittersweet farewell, hardening his heart to the housekeeper’s pleas for him to stay. She insisted he take a bundle of bread and cheese for the road at the least, and that gesture he did not refuse her. 

 

The ride to town was quiet, only the sound of the horse’s hooves clacking in time with his own joyless heart. 

  
He tried to force his aunt’s words from his mind, but they kept returning unbidden.  _ I’m sure an accomplice to murder and a penniless fornicator would be a fine match for any young woman of distinction _ . It wasn’t any young woman whose face appeared then, but a very specific young woman with chestnut hair and eyes like emeralds encased in gold. His aunt had been quite right about one thing, and it lodged in his spirit like a burning blade. Love  _ was _ sacrifice. He couldn’t deny that it was Rey whom he loved, and he knew that meant he must let her go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the pain train, we’ve got a few stops to make before we reach our final destination...
> 
> The chapter count has increased cause I don’t know how to be succinct >.<


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben makes a sacrifice. Rey is left in the wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where'd you go, you were there by my side  
> Keep believing it's my turn to hide  
> In a place where we don't have a prayer  
> There's a tether that's keeping me there
> 
> Trade our places  
> Take no chances  
> Bind me 'til my lips are silent
> 
> Stay where you are  
> Ever, after  
> Chasing things that we should run from  
> -Chvrches

In the days that Father Ren was absent from the abbey, Rose noticed a change in Rey. She seemed in every manner restored to heaven’s graces: her complexion glowed without the shadows of sleeplessness to mar it, her concentration during lessons returned, and Rey’s devotion to piety rivaled even that of her own. All these signs worked together in Rose’s mind to form one sure conclusion: Father Ren was the sickness that had descended upon her friend, and he must somehow be stopped.

 

If he could conduct himself with impropriety toward Rey, who could say how many other wards might have been - or would later be - caught in his duplicitous clutches?

 

Yet in spite of her growing conviction that she must act, she knew this was a most serious allegation of which she had little proof. It would be her own word against Father Ren’s, a man well respected among the clergy. She was but a child subject to their discipline; they would never believe her on suspicion alone. Somehow she must obtain evidence of his misdoings, yet without jeopardizing Rey’s own future. It seemed an impossible task, but all things were possible through Christ.

 

* * *

 

On the third day, just past the evening meal, Kylo’s hired carriage delivered him again to St. Jedi. After departing his aunt’s estate, he had spent the night at the local inn, weary to the bone and seeking comfort at the bottom of a pint of ale. He was full of sorrow for what lay behind, but full of dread for what lay before him.

 

As he carried his things to his quarters again, he was met along the way by Sister Kanata.

 

“Father Ren, you’ve returned early!” The kindly nun exclaimed. “I hope that doesn’t mean…” her words trailed off and her brow furrowed in sympathetic concern.

 

“No, Sister, thank you. I have attended to my affairs as best I could, but now I am called to return to duty.” Eager to change the subject, he stopped and turned to her, laying a hand upon the banister just below the stairs. “Tell me, how are preparations for the Admiral’s visit proceeding?”

 

Kanata’s smile was bright within the frame of her wimple. “I do believe you will be pleased, Reverend Father. Sister Holdo has found a local farmer willing to donate a sheep and three hens for the banquet, and I have begun on Rey’s dress. It should be ready in time if I am diligent, Lord willing.”

 

“You are always diligent, Sister. As it is written in Proverbs, ‘She goes about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.’”

 

Sister Kanata bowed her head. “You honor me, Reverend. If I am the noble wife of that verse, let it be a wife unto Christ.”

 

Kylo swallowed thickly at the word _wife_ , having set the bait for his own snare. “Yes, Sister. Amen. Please, excuse me.”

 

“Of course, Father Ren. You must be tired from your journey.” Sister Kanata nodded in respect and then made her way toward the nuns’ corridor.

 

He _was_ tired, and he would prefer to hide in the embrace of dreams until the sting of reality was soothed away. But dreams were made for dreamers, and that was a thing he had ceased to be, so very long ago.

 

* * *

 

Jessika mentioned after dinner that she had seen a carriage in front of the abbey, as the wards passed through to evening vespers. Rey’s heart fluttered like a lark on the wing, but she tried with great effort to feign disinterest.

 

“Oh? Most curious,” she said, in a tone of voice reserved for subjects which were actually quite dull.

 

“It is,” replied Jessika, not taking Rey’s meaning. “Could Father Ren have returned so soon?”

 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Rey said, finding a seat on the sanctuary pew. She clasped her hands and pretended to pray.

 

That was hours ago, and now she was lying in bed next to Rose, who was softly snoring at her side. _It is too great a gamble to go see him now_ , her better angels said. _Time is running out to feel his arms around you_ , their infernal brethren replied. On and on it went, the tussle in her head, until she felt wont to scream.

 

During his absence, she had given all her strength to following his careful plan. She couldn’t say whether it had convinced Rose, for her friend had barely met her eye in two days. But she kept the charade just the same, for it gave her something to focus on besides thinking of him and their narrowing window of time. Besides, he was right when he said that Rose had no proof, and as long as Rey took more caution hence, that was how it would remain.

 

The bell struck one, and it was like a siren song that beckoned her forth. It was a full hour after their normal rendezvous, and all the abbey seemed to hold its breath, so deep was the stillness laid. Rey propped herself onto her elbows, then leaned over Rose to check for signs of waking. She blew a cool stream of air onto the girl’s face, but Rose’s eyes did not even pinch shut. She grasped her arm and gently squeezed, to no effect.

 

Did she dare to risk it? Only nine nights separated her from the Admiral’s visit, and her last glimpse of her darling Ben. It was enough pain to bear without leaving moments to waste.

 

Whatever the cost, she would pay it.

 

When she had eased her way past the door of the attic, she looked down the corridor toward his study. The faintest of lights flickered under the threshold, and her spirit buoyed upon a current of hope. He was awake, and he was waiting. He had missed her, too.

 

She moved like a whisper along the familiar hall, so sure of her steps where once she had stumbled. She would fling herself into his arms, she would brush tender kisses along his brow, she would make him see that _this_ was what mattered.

 

At last at her destination, Rey pushed at the knob and slipped inside. He was at the desk, and lifted his head at her approach. Their eyes met, the deep forest of hers joining the strong oak of his, and on that fertile ground great longing grew. She ran the distance that stood between them, and pressed to the safety of his broad chest. His fingers skimmed her hair, gentle as a breeze, and for the first time since he left her, she felt able to breathe.

 

She could hear his heartbeat thrumming loud and clear through the thin material of his white shirt. He felt so warm to the touch, she never wanted to leave the harbor of his embrace. She belonged here, whether she could lay claim to it or not. It wouldn’t stop her from knowing the truth.

 

“Rey,” he murmured.

 

She lifted her face to look at him, confused by the pain she saw there.

 

“I…I didn’t expect you tonight,” he said. “It’s dangerous for you to sneak out of bed now.”

 

Rey sighed. “I know, and I nearly stayed away. But Ben, I missed you terribly, and you returned early, and I _needed_ to see you. I needed to know that you were alright, after...”

 

He nodded slightly, side stepping her meaning and unbraided her arms from around his chest. His posture stiffened in his chair. “Rey, there is something I must tell you.”

 

A stone plunged into her gut from the gravity of his tone. She took a step back instinctively. “What is it?”

 

He carded a palm through his wavy hair, leaving it to rest on the back of his neck. His eyes swept across the room, falling everywhere except onto her. The pause was too long. Something was not right.

 

“ _Ben_.” She said, an invocation. “What is it?”

 

The answer came quietly, but it was anything besides soft. “We have to stop this, Rey. Tonight.”

 

“What?” Her voice sounded pinched to her own ears, like an invisible hand was crushing her throat.

 

Still he did not look at her. _Coward_ , her mind hissed impulsively.

 

He tried again. “This — thing between us…it has become a wildfire. It threatens to incinerate us both. I have to…I have to protect you.”

 

Now she understood. He was falling on his sword again, like he did that night in his chambers. She wouldn’t let him, this time. “Don’t you remember it was me that came to you at the start? You don’t have to protect me, Ben. I know the risks and I’m willing to accept them.”

 

“You don’t understand.”

 

“I _do_ understand. You want to keep me safe. But I want this, just as I know you want this. You don’t have to protect me,” she repeated, shaking her head. She leaned forward to kiss him, and something feral flared behind his eyes.

 

He sprang from his chair so quickly that she lost her breath, grabbing her forearms in an iron grip. “I have to protect you _from myself!_ ” He bellowed.

 

She was stunned into silence, and stared blankly up at him. What she saw there was terrible and fierce.

 

Then the fury melted, and tears swam in his eyes until they were limned in red. His words were hitched inside a sob. “We’ve been lying to ourselves, Little Lamb. Myself worst of all. The longer we let this continue, the greater the chances that you will lose everything, and for what? For a depraved and broken sinner, who couldn’t put food in your belly or a roof over your head. The sooner we admit that this was always doomed, the better we both will be.”

 

Rey had had quite enough of the martyrdom. That this came on the heels of his visit to his aunt was no idle coincidence. “That’s not you, Ben! Can’t you see this is because of _her_? What did she do to you?!”

 

He hung his head. “She reminded me…of what I am. Of what I’ve always been. I’m selfish, Rey. Nothing and no one has ever come first with me, not above my own desires. Not my parents, not God, not the priesthood. But you…” He shut his eyes.

 

She held her breath for the next words. He had her backed against a high cliff now, with no foothold to the stormy ocean below. One push and she would fall.

 

The rest came out in a whisper. “You mean more to me than any of it. That’s why I know this is right. I won’t let you become the latest casualty to my treacherous greed.”

 

“What about what _I_ want, Ben? You’re always trying to make my choices for me. I don’t care about sins, or society, or any of the other hog shit they try to sell us to keep us in line. All I’ve ever wanted was someone that belonged to me, and that I could belong to! That’s _you,_ Ben. Let’s just leave here. Tonight. You aren’t Father Ren outside these walls. We can start over. We might be poor but at least we’ll be together. _Please._ ” She felt her knees would give out at any moment. She had laid everything at his feet, time and time again. She had no cards left to show, save one.

 

Her pride was fallen. She bit down hard on her lip, rolling streams cutting their way down her cheeks to pool at her chin. “Don’t go this way, Ben. I…I love you.”

 

She saw the conflict raging across his face. She saw his eyes go distant and glassy, as though he were watching that beautiful dream unfold. Then she saw the moment he shoved it away, his jaw set tight and his head turning from her, and everything lovely inside her darkened and died.

 

“I wish it could be so, little one. God knows I wish it could be so. But love…love is sacrifice. And that’s why…why I….” He stopped, his chest heaving as though he had run a long way. He inhaled slowly, deliberately, and started again.

 

“That reverie won’t save us when winter comes, and no one will give me work when they find out what I’ve done. It won’t be a hearth in the icy rains when we have no place to lay our heads. You told me how your mother struggled, and though you say it doesn’t matter to you, I know that in truth it does. You would be branded a loose woman, never welcome among your peers, forced to scrape for everything you needed. How can I look you in the eye, knowing that I was the cause of that terrible fate? In this life there would be no peace, and in the next there would be no forgiveness.” His own tears flowed freely now, but his face was a mask of resolve.

 

Rey knew she had lost him, even sooner than she had expected to, and she knew her soul was now forfeit too. Not because of any vengeful God as he feared, but because it would forever be fractured without its missing piece. The piece that sat before her now, wretched with grief for a sacrifice he didn’t have to make.

 

It was all such a terrible waste.

 

She reached her small hand up to his wet cheek, and captured his gaze with her own piercing one. The words that had been hanging between them since the first moment they made their hidden accord had now borne their bitter fruit.

 

“Goodbye, Ben.” Rey turned sorrowfully away and moved to the door.

 

“Rey,” he whimpered behind her, so achingly pitiful that she almost stopped.

 

But she didn’t stop. Not when she reached the door, not when her padded feet strode swiftly through the darkened hall, not when she entered the attic and dropped back onto the bed, no longer caring who discovered her gone.

 

The tears fell to her pillow in an unbroken flow, and it was no use to wipe them away. More would follow where those had been, until the cup of her life was completely drained.

 

* * *

 

The hours that followed passed as though through a heavy fog. Day blurred to night and back to day, and all the while Rey moved numbly toward the prize which had lost all its meaning. Food was tasteless, sleep was fitful, and the worst part of all was that she could reveal her pain to no one.

 

It was as if he had never come into her life at all.

 

She hadn’t seen him since that night, over a week ago. There was only one day remaining until Admiral Hux arrived, and Ben had managed to keep himself cloistered from her. He had even assigned the Sunday mass to Father Dameron. He must have told the clergy their lessons together were complete, that the preparations for the visit would now need his full attention. The irony was bitter beneath her tongue.

 

Rose, who had felt so distant while Ben was away, was now asking after her well-being and giving her looks of pity that made Rey want to explode. She didn’t want Rose’s pity, or anyone else’s. What she truly wanted would never be hers, and it raked at her insides like a merciless beast.

 

On Saturday, Rey was spending her leisure hour as she so often did these days, lying in bed alone with her tears, when there came a soft rap at the door. Before she could answer, Sister Kanata’s petite frame came into view, a gentle smile resting as ever on her craggy face.

 

Rey quickly wiped the water from her cheeks and blinked a few times. She hoped her eyes were not too red. She was in no mood to make excuses.

 

But the sweet nun inquired nothing of her. Instead, she came to sit on the bed beside Rey and gave her a look that did all the talking on her behalf. It wasn’t pity Rey read there, though - it was motherly love. She bit her lip to keep fresh tears from coming, so grateful was she for the unspoken gift. It was impossible to stay them in the end, however, when Sister Kanata revealed why she had come.

 

In her frail arms she held a large bundle, wrapped in brown paper and tied with jute string. She placed it into Rey’s lap and patted the young girl’s thigh.

 

“This is for you, Rey, from all of us at the abbey.”

 

Rey shook her head in disbelief. They had given her a gift? Gifts were for Christmas only, and were things like apples or sweetbread, or perhaps if you were truly lucky, a new pair of woolen socks.

 

With shaking fingers, Rey pulled at the string to loosen the knot. When it fell away, she carefully unfolded the brown paper, and what it concealed made her gasp.

 

It was the most exquisite dress Rey had ever seen. Made of soft cotton and muslin, it was a downy white with a feminine yet modest scooped neckline and puffed cap sleeves. A wide ribbon, the color of moonlit snow, encircled below the breastbone to tie at the back, and hand stitched flowers cascaded in a trail down the front to the bottom hem. It was fit for an angel - or a bride.

 

Rey hugged it in front of her chest with a cry of delight, so in disbelief that it was her very own.

 

“Do you like it, my dear?”

 

“Oh Sister, it is a gift from heaven,” Rey exclaimed.

 

“And from Father Ren,” came the reply.

 

Was it possible she had just seen the old woman _wink_?

 

“F-Father Ren?” She stammered.

 

“Yes, my child. He asked me to make it for you so you could look your best when the Admiral arrives. It will be a big day for us all, if the Lord wills it.”

 

“Oh,” was all that Rey could reply. Ben had arranged for her to have this beautiful gown as a going away present. If only the occasion she was wearing it to had been another celebration entirely, Rey would have considered herself the luckiest girl in the world. But instead of claiming her as his own, he would be giving her away. The ache in her chest made it so hard to breathe.

 

A long moment passed before Rey remembered her manners, to her chagrin. “Sister, thank you so very much. I will always treasure it - and your kindness to me, these last many years. It has made my cross easier to bear.”

 

“That is our purpose in life, daughter: to lighten the yoke on our fellow man’s shoulders, as Christ took the burden of our sins from us.” Sister Kanata squeezed Rey’s hand gently. “To show love and to be loved, it is the highest calling.”

 

Rey swallowed hard at her words, fighting the lump pinching in her throat. “The Reverend Mother often says that to serve is our highest calling.”

 

“She is not wrong, Rey, and yet the heart of a servant _is_ showing love. As it is written, ‘If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.’ Love never fails, Rey. Don’t forget that when your time with us is at its end.”

 

Rey nodded, feeling a strange peace settling inside her for the first time in what felt a long age. “Yes, Sister. I shall not forget.”

 

Sister Kanata stood from the bed, her warm smile never fading. “Do let me know if the dress needs any alterations, won’t you my dear?”

 

“Of course. And Sister?” Rey asked, tilting her head to look at the elderly nun.

 

“Yes, my daughter?”

 

“Will you tell Father Ren thank you for me, too?”

 

“Certainly, Rey. Certainly.” She turned to go, leaving Rey alone with her thoughts once more.

 

There was still some time before afternoon lessons began. Rey folded her new dress with the greatest of care and placed it safely in the trunk at the bottom of her bed. Then she went to the window, where a small writing desk sat for all of the orphans to practice their lessons. She took out a quill and a sheet of parchment, and began to write.

 

* * *

 

Rose was coming through the main entrance to the abbey to return to afternoon lessons when she saw Rey exit the wards’ quarters on the landing above. She had come in early, and the halls were still empty as the other wards took every moment possible of their only free time for the day.

 

Rey was carrying a folded piece of paper in her hand, and she looked about the corridor, left and right, before quickly moving toward Father Ren’s study. Rose’s breath hitched in her lungs and she ducked beside the wall of the staircase to stay out of Rey’s sight.

 

She watched as Rey knelt by the door to the study and slipped the paper under the small gap below. Then she swiftly moved again to descend the stairs, no doubt to gather with the others before lessons began.

 

Rose took a backward step toward where she had entered, pretending as though she was just now returning. When Rey saw her, she smiled as casually as she could.

 

“Hello, Rose,” Rey said, returning her smile and it lifted Rose’s heart to see. Rey had been so miserable since Father Ren had come back to the abbey, further proof that he was polluting her darling friend.

 

_It won’t be long before you’re far away from here, Rey, and when you’re safe, I’ll find some way to put a stop to this evil,_ she thought to herself.

 

“Hello, Rey. I was just going upstairs to fetch my Bible.”

 

“Don’t be long, Rose. You know The Reverend Mother won’t take kindly to being kept waiting,” Rey warned her.

 

“I shan’t be. Hold a seat for me next to yours?”

 

“Always,” Rey told her cheerfully.

 

When Rey had gone toward the classroom, Rose quickly ran up the staircase. What had she left beneath his door? She had to know.

 

She looked about, but she was still alone, so she crouched quickly down and slid her small hand under the gap. She could feel the edge of the parchment just at her fingertips.

 

Only a little more and she could grab it.

 

Pushing with all her strength as the wood of the door bit into her hand, she strained to reach and at last, she had it. Sliding it back toward her, her pulse was racing. This could be it. The proof that she needed.

 

Quickly she scrambled to her feet and ran back to the attic before the other wards returned. Slumped down behind the door, she unfolded the parchment with a shaking hand as her eyes swept over the words.

 

_My Dearest Ben,_

 

_‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’ - 1 Corinthians 13._

 

_As I write these words, I know that you have let me go because you believe you must. Because you love me, and you want to protect me. But what you don’t truly realize is that I love you, too. I have kept no record of your wrongs; can you say the same about your aunt and all those who have made you believe you are the monster you once told me you are?_

 

_I do not delight in evil, but I rejoice in the truth that you and I were led by providence to find one another here, even in this place which does not accept the purity of our feelings. I trust and I hope - because I love - that someday you will come to see yourself as I see you: a man whose passions have been twisted against him, but that make him more sacred than any holy instrument could ever be._

 

_I can be patient. I can persevere. One day you will accept your own heart, and on that day we will live together, in love, as we were always meant to._

 

_Forever your lamb,_

_Rey_

 

Rose sat back against the door, completely stunned. Rey had fallen in love with Father Ren, and no matter if Rose chose to tell or not tell, her heart would be broken just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's dress: 
> 
> This week I was absolutely blown away by an amazing gift from [SecretReylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretreylo/pseuds/secretreylo), the most beautiful moodboard/manip I could have imagined. Thank you for capturing Rey and Ben just as I imagined them. 
> 
> I am forever grateful for all the support this fic has received. We're closer than ever to the end and I hope everyone will find it satisfying <3
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/reylohalo?lang=en)
> 
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> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2aI8uFi5d02mEWS9kkL5C4?si=rWmxjnwfS0SG-Fn_riIpNQ)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux arrives at the abbey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the stone set in your eyes  
> See the thorn twist in your side  
> I'll wait for you  
> Sleight of hand and twist of fate  
> On a bed of nails she makes me wait  
> And I wait, without you
> 
> My hands are tied  
> My body bruised, she’s got me with  
> Nothing to win and  
> Nothing left to lose  
> -U2

  


This place had become his prison. There was no quarter or corner that Rey’s memory had left untouched; it tugged at his robes as he paced endlessly in his study, and it whispered in his ear when he laid his head upon the pillow in a desperate attempt to sleep. 

 

When he sat down to write letters of petition to the church, she was there, spread across his desk in unholy rapture, sweat beading on her porcelain skin. When he prayed at the altar, she was there, love-lit eyes and gentle hands soothing away his terrors. If he walked to the garden to breathe fresh air, he found her also in that place, crushing the anemone in beautiful fury once again. The scenes played on and on like a sick parade, and his life was now punctuated by the beat of their drum. 

 

The only time he was not remembering her was when he was arguing with his own internal chorus over which course of action to take. Each lonely sunset stirred his resolve to go to her, steal her from her bed, fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness. He imagined a thousand different ways to win back her affection, a thousand different endings that led them into each other's arms and away from the bonds of duty that shackled him in place. 

 

He did have a tiny pittance saved, just enough for a dire circumstance. Perhaps if they used it to buy passage on a ship, they could begin again on a distant shore where no one would be the wiser as to how he came to love his darling, petite wife. 

 

He could find work at a stable, go into equestrian care as his father had wanted. When they had saved enough, perhaps he would even have the chance to return to university. A doctor would be worthy of her, and a doctor’s wages would mean she would not want for anything. Their sins would be forgiven once they were covered by the shield of the marriage bed. She had been the only woman he had known intimately, after all, and he never wanted another so long as he drew breath. 

 

Every cursed night as the tallow shrank low in submission to the undulating flame, his fingers twitched against the lip of his desk in anxious hesitation. He traced the ink stain in the wood with a trembling hand, knowing it would never again come clean. 

 

Back and forth he walked in the little room, cruelly suspended in purgatory between the heaven of her promise and the hell of his vow. He once got as far as the door to the attic, his hand alighting on the brass knob before the chill of its touch shocked him back to his senses. 

 

_ You never wanted this life, and now she has offered to free you _ , a small voice inside him said. It was like the voice one used when speaking to a child, as though explaining something very obvious that nevertheless presented as a vast mystery. 

 

_ For once in your miserable existence, do the right thing. You know you don’t deserve her,  _ came the serpentine reply, crisp and stinging with contempt for his weakness. 

 

That was the thought that stayed him above all the others. What a woman like Rey deserved would always be out of his reach to provide. He could love her, he could introduce her to carnal pleasures, but he could never bring her the honor that came from a good match. His mother had sacrificed everything for love, and look at the tragedies it had reaped. 

 

More importantly, once Rey was truly his, could his beastly heart be trained into domesticity? If he hurt her as he had hurt everyone close to him, it would be a fate worse than what awaited him beyond death. He would rather stare down the fires of hell than look at her face crumpled in pain again. 

 

No. It was far better to let things lie, to let the hypnotism of time blur her own memories of him into hazy, intangible dreams. Dreams that would become his lifelong companions, a fire that warmed him against the bitter cold of her absence as the empty years went by. 

 

* * *

After what seemed to be a hundred days - and yet could also have been mere hours - the dreaded morning had arrived.

 

Their humble abbey was atwitter with excitement, wards and clergy alike. They took precious few holidays throughout the year: Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, Ash Wednesday, and a small handful of others. These were a time for reflection and prayer, rarely a true celebration as one would find outside the orphanage walls. Merriment was an idle distraction, as the Supreme Mother would say, and so their lives passed with little punctuation between days.  _ This _ day was an exclamation point, and even Sister Phasma had come under its persuasion. Father Ren had it on good authority that she had made the bread-and-butter pudding herself. 

 

It was no real feast to speak of, but they had made the best with what the Lord provided. First course was to be clear cabbage soup, to warm the palate and prepare the stomach for the dishes to come. Unfortunately, no oysters or clams could be gotten this far from the sea, but Father Storm had managed to catch some perch that Sister Holdo made into a whole flake fish pie. The entree would be the roasted chicken and mutton donated by the farmer, served with root vegetables, gravy, and Yorkshire pudding. Sister Phasma’s bread-and-butter pudding rounded out the meal with dessert, and for the clergy and their guest of honor, there was even a bottle of port. It was a handsome spread, if not ostentatious, and Kylo hoped it would convey their gratitude for the Admiral’s boon. 

 

Sleeping arrangements, too, had been made, to afford the Admiral and his attendants some privacy during their stay. Kylo had equipped a cot in his study and would give his bed to the Admiral, as his was the largest of the clergy’s quarters. Fathers Dameron and Storm would lodge together for the night, letting Hux’s valet and coachman occupy Dameron’s chamber. These were necessary sacrifices that all had been prepared to make, if it meant extending the solvency of St. Jedi until more assistance could be obtained. 

 

The final preparation had been Rey herself. Sister Kanata relayed that her dress had been delivered as promised, and the message of gratitude she carried in return had been the one bright spot in that hellish week. He hoped the gift had given her some small measure of joy, the least of the gestures he could make to her now. 

 

Kylo knew that today Rey would be permitted her own bath, and his mind was like a carriage wheel stuck in deep mud: as hard as he tried, he could not stop thinking of the night they spent in his chambers, when he cleansed her naked body and pressed her sweet smelling skin in unity to his own. It was a memory he would treasure from now until he stood before his Maker, whatever unabashed answer he was made to give there for his crimes.  

 

It was drawing near to midday, and the appointed hour was close at hand. The priests were gathered below the main staircase, along with the Mother Superior. They were waiting for Rey and the other wards to join them so they could greet the Admiral as a group. Kylo stood with hands clasped behind his back, taking slow breaths to steady himself. Somehow he would find the strength to do what he must; he would not let his own ego stand in the way. 

 

The door to the wards’ attic opened with a click, and there she was: his Little Lamb.  _ No. Not  _ _ his _ , he reminded his maudlin heart. But the way it constricted so painfully in his chest said to hell with his false denials. 

 

She moved to the top of the landing, flanked on either side by Sisters Holdo and Kanata. The first full sight of her collided into him, and he was overtaken. He stood frozen in a spell, as churning waves of longing besieged him without ever seeming to ebb. Chills were left in their pining wake, a chant of take-her-go-to-her-kiss-her drowning out every other sound.

 

It had been folly to think that a time of absence would make this easier. On the contrary, his body was now aflame with every good thing he had been missing; deprivation sparked like dry twigs in summer, and her angelic beauty struck the match. Complete immolation was the only logical response.

 

Her chestnut hair was swept onto the crown of her head in a high updo that exposed the lovely column of her neck. The white dress flowed around her delicately, its scooped neckline showing just the slightest suggestion of her mounded breasts. The other wards trailed behind her in a muted procession of browns and grays, making her loveliness stand out all the brighter. It was easy to imagine he was her waiting groom, that in just a few moments he would join her forever to his body and his name. 

 

Easy to imagine, but difficult to bear. 

 

She wasn’t looking at him, and he wrestled with whether this was a mercy. In his last memory of her eyes, they were drowning in tears, and he longed to replace that agonizing recollection with her softness now. Yet he knew that if she returned his gaze, it could only be hatred he saw burning there, and that would be worse than the pain. 

 

When Rey and the other wards had made their way down the stairs, Kylo braced himself, his abdomen drawing tight. 

 

_ This is for the best, _ he reminded himself again.  _ She will be well looked after as a member of Hux’s household staff.  _

 

He ushered everyone outside to meet the carriage, and they stood in a long line beginning with the priests and ending with the orphans. He was both relieved and regretful for the distance between himself and Rey. Today was going to be the most difficult day of his life since he was sent away from his mother, and he needed to ensure there would be small moments to gather his composure. 

 

The day was cool, with a veil of pale gray clouds shrouding the sun. The smell of petrichor was in the air, but for now the horizon was calm. Just as the bells were tolling twelve, four magnificent sable Hackneys came into view drawing a luxurious carriage. It was large enough to accommodate four persons and on the doors it bore the Imperial Crest along with the Hux family coat of arms. There was an audible gasp from the row of orphans as it rolled down the lane, dust clouds swirling behind. 

 

The driver pulled smoothly to a stop before the abbey, and the valet descended to open the door. He was dressed in a fitted black waistcoat with polished buttons and matching trousers. On his hands he wore crisp white gloves, and his closely cropped black hair was combed into a stiff side part. He looked quite out of place in the countryside, but his expression remained one of dignified forbearance. 

 

“Sir Armitage Hux of Arkanis, Admiral of the First Armada in His Royal Majesty’s Imperial Navy,” the valet trumpeted in a clear voice as he opened the door. 

 

The Admiral stepped from the coach, posture straight as a pin. He was more appropriately dressed in a tan Norfolk suit with matching flat cap and shining leather hunting boots, yet his presence commanded twice the respect of the overly starched valet. 

 

His face was youthful but there was something cold in the sharp angles of his jaw and nose. Serene blue eyes were offset by the calculating crook of his arched brows. Yet the most noticeable thing about him by far was his brassy shock of hair peeking from below his flat cap. Kylo recalled how their schoolmates teased him with the nickname of “Captain Carrots,” and he repressed a small smile. 

 

Armitage, or Armie as he was known at university, had been Kylo’s first and only friend. Their bond was forged not by mutual interests as much as a mostly friendly, though sometimes testy, academic rivalry. Armie had encouraged Kylo to pursue the medical field in spite of his aunt’s wishes, and though this had ended badly, Kylo had been grateful for the courage it lent him at the time. 

 

After Kylo was forced to leave the school, the two men kept in touch with occasional correspondence. He followed Hux’s military career and meteoric rise to the rank of Admiral with vicarious pleasure and perhaps a small measure of envy, always wondering where his own path not taken would have led. 

 

Kylo stepped forward and Hux grasped his hand in a warm handshake. “Benedict! It’s been an age. Or I suppose, it’s Father Ren now? Your Holiness? I confess the honoraries of the Church are quite beyond me, I am accustomed to earning my ranks through bloodied valor, you know.” 

 

The Mother Superior huffed at Kylo’s back. 

 

“Just Ben will be fine between us, Armie,” Kylo replied. “Allow me to make introductions.” 

 

Kylo led the Admiral down the line, introducing him to the Mother Superior and the rest of the clergy. Each ward curtsied as her name was called, and at the end of the line there was Rey. 

 

Kylo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “Armitage, this is the girl we are recommending for the governess position. This is Miss Rey Kenobi.”

 

Rey crossed her left ankle behind her right and dropped smoothly into a gracious curtsy. The scoop of her neckline gave a teasing hint of her breasts, and Kylo fought an intense urge to hide her from view. 

 

“It is my honor to make your acquaintance, Admiral, Sir. I am grateful to you and to God for this opportunity,” Rey smiled shyly. Kylo knew she was merely observing her manners but he yearned to keep that shy smile for himself alone.

 

_ Compose yourself, Ren. Tomorrow you will watch them depart, save your strength for the worst of it.  _

 

Hux tipped the brim of his flat cap with a slight nod to Rey. “Ah, Miss Kenobi, the pleasure is all mine. Father Ren promised me a governess with high skill and wit, but he neglected to include that you were also a great beauty.”

 

Kylo’s eyes widened at Hux’s words and his jaw tightened upon seeing that a flush was blooming on Rey’s cheeks. What was Hux playing at? 

 

He cleared his throat and broke the lingering moment between them. “I’m certain your horses must be spent from the journey. There is a pasture not far where they can graze safely. Father Dameron can show your valet where to store your things, and in the meantime I thought perhaps Miss Kenobi could accompany us on a tour of the grounds. It will give you a chance to discuss your expectations for her and to assess her qualities.”

 

Hux tore his eyes from Rey to acknowledge Kylo. “Splendid idea, Ben. Do lead the way.” 

 

Kylo took them inside the cool of the abbey and they followed a step behind, listening to his narration. They went first to the classrooms where the wards were taught.

 

“Each girl receives daily instruction from the nuns, and Rey is one of our brightest. We teach them a host of subjects: arithmetic, penmanship, geography, as well as French, Italian, and Latin. They are also instructed in the basic duties of domesticity and in obedience to Scriptural authority.”

 

The Admiral paused. “Scriptural authority, you don’t say? God, King, and Country, and all that?”

 

Kylo quirked a brow. “Just so.”

 

“How delightful.” Hux looked then to Rey, who had been following demurely beside. “ _ Est-ce que tu parle français?” _

 

“ _ Oui, monsieur, je le parle, _ ” she replied with perfect enunciation.

 

“ _ La langue de la passion, non?”  _

 

Before she could stutter out a reply, he turned quickly to Kylo. “That will serve my Millicent very well. As a young lady she will need to conduct herself with ease while abroad, and I am sure Miss Kenobi will be up to the task of preparing her.” 

 

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Quite.” 

 

As the trio moved toward the garden, the clouds had deepened to shades of slate and they choked out the bits of remaining blue. Rey stopped to watch the horses grazing in the distance, magnificent as they were. 

 

Taking note of her interest, Hux addressed her. “I noticed you admiring my carriage when we arrived. Tell me, my dear, have you ever traveled in a  _ horseless _ carriage before?” He paused but half a breath, as though he already knew the answer. “No, I don’t imagine you would have, wasting away the flower of your youth in cloister. Well, I dare say we shall rectify that once you are living at my estate. I happen to  _ own _ a horseless carriage, and it is the most marvelous machine; a true wonder of the scientific age. I shall take you for a trip into the city, and then you can replace those dreadful clothes for something that truly suits your figure.” 

 

Kylo whirled around with narrowed eyes, which seemed lost on the Admiral. 

 

Rey had the look of a fly caught in a web. That same high flush had returned to her cheeks. “Th—thank you, Sir. But I couldn’t impose.” 

 

“It would be no imposition. As a member of my household staff, you must always look your best. You represent the manor in which you reside, after all.” 

 

“She said she couldn’t impose,” Kylo growled. “Now are you going to stand about discussing bonnets all day or shall we continue?”

 

“Of course, Ben. Please, let’s resume,” Hux said with a wave of his hand, as though it had been his suggestion. 

 

They moved through each part of St. Jedi while Hux made small conversation with Rey or offered commentary to Kylo. After seeing the inner workings of the abbey he exclaimed, “You mean to tell me you’re still using candles and chamber pots? How  _ can _ you stand it, Ben? I do believe I’ve returned back to 1785.”

 

“We live simple lives here, Armie. God provides us what we need and it is our duty to make the best of it,” he said, a bit sharper than he meant to. 

 

Armitage had always been the haughty sort, highborn as he was, but the years between seemed to have made him into an absolute snob. Not to mention the way he had looked at Rey when they made introductions, and his insidious tone ever since. The roil of anxiety in his gut was beginning to heat into something meaner. 

 

“Better you than me, my friend. I’ll wager our young Miss Kenobi here simply won’t know  _ what _ to do with herself once she is introduced to modern conveniences.” 

 

“I will do my utmost to be adaptable, Sir, though I would never eschew the virtues of simplicity,” Rey replied. At the last words, her eyes flicked to Kylo, heavy with implication. 

 

Hux smiled as though she had told him a secret. Kylo didn’t care for his manner one bit. He may be an old friend, and he may be of great importance, but Kylo would be damned if he would let Rey come under the employ of a rake, no matter what his titles. 

 

“Miss Kenobi, I am sure the Admiral would like the opportunity to rest a while before dinner. You can take your leave now and rejoin the other wards,” Kylo told her. 

 

Rey dipped into another curtsy, this one stiffer than the last. Her voice was brittle. “As you wish, Father.” 

 

Kylo watched her go with the sinking sensation that he had chosen poorly. A desperate flare of will to right the ship came upon him. 

 

He chose his words carefully. “Armitage, you do understand why I have invited you here?” 

 

Kylo hadn’t been the only one tracking Miss Kenobi’s departure with interest. “I should hope so, for all the miles I traveled. Though I dare say I would have come straight away, Benedict, if I had known you were offering me such a delectable dove. I wonder, what sort of lovely coos will she make, once she is let out of her cage?”

 

Kylo squared his body toward the smaller man, straightening his posture to rise to his full height. He felt an intense heat growing beneath his collarino. “Is that your idea of a jest? Miss Kenobi is a lady, not a plaything for so-called gentlemen. We aren’t in university any longer.” His tone held little veil to the threat beneath. 

 

Hux simply laughed, a puffed up and derisive sound, and clapped Kylo about the shoulder. “Of course it is, Ben. I am an Admiral, and she is the governess. I wouldn’t lower myself, no matter how prettily she blushes. You of all people should understand the constraints of station. After all, you have sworn off all women, have you not?” He added with a wink.

 

Kylo wasn’t sure which was worse - Hux ogling her, or Hux implying she wasn’t good enough for any other purpose. Air puffed through his nose and his fingers twitched at his sides. The chorus in his head was waking up, and they were positively raucous. 

 

“Armitage. Listen to me well. Miss Kenobi is…is  _ special _ . She’s bright, and courageous, and would serve any household well. I called upon you because I am trusting you to do right by her, as a man of your  _ station _ . The abbey is grateful for your boon but I must have your solemn word that you will treat her with kindness and dignity.” 

 

Hux arched one russet eyebrow and his lip pulled into a slight sneer. “Good God, man, has the Church drained every last drop of humor you had? I was just having a bit of sport between old friends. But you needn’t worry, I don’t intend to sully her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say  _ you _ cared for her.” 

 

Kylo’s eyes cut a razor path to Hux’s smirking face. “You  _ don’t _ know better, Armie. You don’t know anything at all.” 

 

The tolling bell saved them from further incident, and Kylo tersely suggested they retire before the banquet. Armitage agreed, so Kylo showed him to his quarters and stomped back to his study. Outside, the first rumbles of thunder were rolling through the air. 

 

* * *

The banquet was mostly without incident. Hux had changed into a single-breasted dinner jacket with a stiff white shirt beneath, though Kylo noted that as the only man in evening attire he appeared more like a waiter than one of the landed gentry. What there was no mistaking, however, was the gleaming medal of valor pinned to his lapel. It gave him every opportunity to regale the table with daring tales of war, which he seized upon with apparent relish.

 

Kylo did admit that watching the Mother Superior’s expression waver between objection to the nature of the stories in mixed company and desire to show hospitality to their guest was an amusing pastime. 

 

Throughout the evening, he attempted to gauge Rey’s reaction to the Admiral. She seemed to be listening with no more than polite interest but the thought of Hux flashing his money and status to impress her was nauseating. Hux’s words to and about her from earlier in the day had festered in Kylo’s gut until they curdled. How much could he truly trust him? 

 

When they were in school Hux had a tendency to be irreverent and bawdy but they had been just lads. There was nothing in his letters to indicate he had remained in such immature stasis. He was a Knight and an Admiral with a late wife and children for heaven’s sake. Everything in Kylo’s designs to save the abbey and to elevate Rey’s situation in life hinged on this. Had he thrown the dice to a fool’s wager? 

 

Kylo stared bitterly down into his goblet of port. He was listening to the pattering rain that had made its appearance at last and wishing for this godforsaken day to be at its end. The wound of losing Rey could not go any deeper; then let it be bandaged and hidden away. 

 

After the wards had cleared the dishes, Sister Kanata turned to Kylo.

 

“Reverend Father, shall we end this splendid evening with some music?”

 

Kylo’s only wish was to retire to his quarters, but appearances still needed to be kept. He huffed a small sigh. “As you like, Sister. Will you play for us, then?”

 

The elder nun’s eyes sparkled with merriment. “It would be my honor.”

 

Thus the group moved into the sanctuary where Sister Kanata sat at the organ. Before she began, she called out to Rey. “Miss Kenobi, come give us a song.”

 

Kylo stifled a groan. Providence was clearly not on his side today. 

 

Rey chewed her lip and hesitated, but the Sister was insistent. Hux was watching with rapt attention, further darkening Kylo’s already black mood. 

 

At last persuaded, Rey came to stand beside the organ. She bent down to murmur something to Sister Kanata, and the nun began to play.

 

The music filled the chapel, jubilant and bright, and Rey’s sweet voice rang out above. Kylo had never heard her sing unaccompanied, and his heart flowed deep with sentiment. When he realized the song she had chosen, the sentiment flooded into yearning, and he was pulled under its tide. 

 

_ Oh, drink of the river of pleasure  _

_ A deep, living stream of delight; _

_ The source of all blessings forever,  _

_ It flashes in heaven’s pure light. _

 

_ Oh, drink of the river of pleasure and love, _

_ I feel it so deep in my soul; _

_ It gladdens the one who is born from above, _

_ And maketh the wounded heart whole.  _

 

_ Oh, drink of the river of pleasure, _

_ ‘'Tis sparkling with joy for thy soul; _

_ It flows in the bosom forever, _

_ That’s given to Father’s control. _

 

_ Oh, drink of the river of pleasure, _

_ And surely thy spirit shall know _

_ Thy longing and thirsting are over, _

_ Thy blessings forever shall flow. _

 

By the end of her song, hot tears were stinging his eyes. The Scripture told him that the Lord would not give us burdens more than we could bear, but his arms were weak from the weight of this load. She was everything good and pure in his life, and tomorrow, she would be gone. Gone with Hux, who he now had tenuous faith in.  _ Oh God, what have I done?  _

 

He had to go. The last refrain of the song was still playing but he stood to his feet and made for the exit, regret and anger coursing through him like acid. 

 

He kept going until he was outside, and the whip of the wind lashed into his face. It was pouring now, but he welcomed the deluge as it cooled his heated blood. He stood a moment soaking it in before retreating back under the archway, water dripping from his hair as he hung his head low. 

 

They would be wondering why he had left so suddenly. All these years of practicing self restraint, and he was still the little child lost in the maelstrom of his emotions.  _ It’s time now to be a man. Be the man she needs you to be.  _

 

He straightened his shoulders and prepared to face them once again. Entering through the doors, he saw that the gathering was ending. 

 

Hux was standing outside the chapel entrance, and his valet Mr. Mitaka at his side. It seemed they were about to retire. Kylo approached to greet them, when he overheard Armitage speaking. 

 

“I dare say it’s high time we had a woman around again. The squalling brats have been insufferable since Mrs. Hux passed to glory. Of course, with that little tart popping about, there may be another brat on the way by late summer.” 

 

Kylo’s rage was volcanic. Every wretched event of the past two weeks was sparking to the surface: Rose’s almost-discovery, his visit with his aunt, giving up on the one thing he wanted most in the world, and now Hux’s complete betrayal of his trust. He was past the point of containment; the fuse had reached the gunpowder heart. 

 

His vision narrowed to a single point: the feeble shaft of Hux’s throat. With a feral snarl, he flew across the hall and lifted him by the satin lapel of his fine coat as easily as if he were a doll. Hux’s feet dangled two inches from the ground, and his back slammed into the stone wall.

 

“So help me, Hux, you will never touch her!” Kylo shouted into his blood-drained face. 

 

“Benedict, what is the meaning of this insult? Put me down at once!”

 

Kylo’s eyes pooled to obsidian and choked the light from Hux’s watery blue ones. He moved not a muscle.

 

“What is she to you? She’s a peasant, and you’re a priest! Or are you just a deviant, as your family always claimed?” Hux challenged, at last finding his mettle.

 

“ME, the deviant? You pompous, lecherous cur!” Kylo roared back. His left hand clenched Hux’s collar so tightly that the man sputtered for air, and his right wound back to connect devastatingly with Hux’s jaw. 

 

At that moment, three things happened at once. The Admiral slumped to the floor clutching his head, the valet was awoken from his stunned silence to shout for help, and the clergy and wards rushed into the hall like scattered sheep pursued by a wolf. 

 

After that, there was nothing remaining but the black mouth of rage as it split the earth to swallow him whole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French Dialogue translates to:  
> Hux - “Do you speak French?”  
> Rey - “Yes Sir I speak it”  
> Hux - “The language of passion, no?”
> 
> ...no wonder Kylo was pressed about it..
> 
> The hymn in the chapter is an actual hymn from the 1890s, not my original work. You can read the lyrics here
> 
> My apologies for the delayed update. My muse was giving me the cold shoulder all last week...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has encouraged and lifted me up about this story. It means more than I can say to know that there are actual people out there who want to read what I’ve written.
> 
> A special thank you to fettuccine-alfreylo for helping with the French translation and for having my back every step of the way during this process.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shoe drops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game  
> If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame  
> If thine is the glory then mine must be the shame.  
> Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name  
> Vilified, crucified, in the human frame  
> A million candles burning for the love that never came  
> You want it darker  
> We kill the flame.  
> \- Leonard Cohen

The hall was pandemonium. The Mother Superior was shrieking, the wards huddled together in a corner like frightened doves, and Father Dameron had grabbed Father Ren by the arms and was attempting to restrain him from causing further injury to the Admiral. Hux was back on his feet now, holding his swollen jaw and spitting curses at Father Ren, who seemed barely contained by Dameron’s best effort. 

 

Rose stood in the doorway of the chapel, unable to tear her eyes away. 

 

“You’ll never see a single shilling from me, Solo! And you can keep your harlot as well!” Hux’s face had turned crimson, and set against the brass of his hair he looked like the Devil himself. 

 

Ren said nothing, his full lips pulled into a fierce snarl, his own black expression terrifying to witness. Somehow, he was more redoubtable in his silence than Hux in all his bluster. 

 

Hux turned to his valet. “Go and fetch Bane at once! We are leaving!”

 

Mitaka blanched. “But Sir, the storm —”

 

“At once!” Hux roared, and the man scurried away to collect their things and alert the coachman.

 

The nuns were staring at Father Ren, completely agape at the violent display. He had the decency to hang his head, and followed Dameron meekly up the stairs when the priest decided it best to lead him away. 

 

Rose felt the moment was now or never. She had planned to wait until Rey had left the abbey, far from the reach of punishment, but it was clear that Father Ren had destroyed her one chance at happiness. He would do anything to keep her near to him, it seemed. She simply could not let this stand.

 

But to whom could she turn? The Mother Superior would never understand that Rey had fallen victim to the older man’s wiles. Sister Kanata was kindly, but usually disposed to siding with Father Ren. Her eyes darted around the room, and they fell upon Father Finn Storm. 

 

The priest had always seemed fair and just, and never overly punitive. When she had given him her confessions, he listened with compassion, not a trace of judgment in his voice. He was the right choice, Rose knew. 

 

Rose found him in the crowd and met his gaze after some difficulty. 

 

“Father Storm?”

 

His warm brown eyes looked down at her. “What is it, Child? It’s time you were off to bed.” 

 

“Please, Father. I must speak with you urgently,” Rose implored.

 

“This isn’t a good moment, Rose. Surely it can wait until morning?”

 

“No, Sir, I don’t believe it can. It’s about Father Ren.”

 

His eyebrows shot up. 

 

The Mother Superior was gathering the wards to take them upstairs. She spotted Rose across the hall.

 

“Miss Tico! Come along, Miss Tico!”

 

Father Storm held up his palm to her. “Just a moment, Reverend Mother. I need a word with her first.” 

 

Phasma’s expression was stitched in skepticism, but she let them be. She began climbing the stairs to the attic, the other wards following behind her obediently. 

 

“Can we go somewhere private, Father?” Rose asked, hoping she was not pressing her luck too far.

 

“Very well. Let us return to the sanctuary, then.”

 

The pair walked together to a pew at the back of the room. Rose found that now the moment of truth had come, she was trembling inside. The Saints stared down from their glassy kingdoms, bidding her to uphold what was right. She prayed silently for courage, and for protection for her precious friend. 

 

“What is it you wanted to tell me, Rose?” Father Storm said with his characteristic gentleness. 

 

Rose’s voice was but a whisper, a reverent rustling against the high stone walls. “Someone I care for dearly is in trouble, Father. Before I tell you, I need your word that you will keep her safe.” 

 

The priest’s wide eyes narrowed slightly. “Your loyalty is admirable, child, but I cannot give assurances without knowing the truth. You said this had something to do with Father Ren?”

 

Rose nodded solemnly and chewed at her lip. There was no going back now. 

 

“I think I know why he attacked the Admiral, Father.” 

 

* * *

Kylo sat on the edge of the cot in his study, tossing scraps of paper into the fire to watch them blacken and curl. This was a portrait of his life, he thought bitterly: every good thing he had been given, he would eventually throw to the flames until it was nothing more than stinking ash.

 

Where could he go from here? Word would spread quickly of his insult to the Admiral and then scandal would descend upon the abbey. His request to petition for increased endowment would never be granted now. And Rey… 

 

Oh God, Rey. He sank his long face into his hands, fingernails clawing at his scalp. He had ruined her prospects utterly. And yet, he couldn’t have allowed her to go with Hux, not after knowing his foul intentions. 

 

_ Were they so different from your own? _ The sinister voice in his mind taunted him. 

 

_ YES!  _ He shouted back internally. _ I love her - I love her! Not just her body…her mind, her soul.  _ The voice was quiet, for a blessed moment. He would do what he should have done a week ago. He would go to her, and they would leave together. They would find a way…

 

Just then a loud pounding was at his door. Was it Dameron again? Did the clergy already convene to censure him? 

 

He opened it with a weary sigh, to find the Mother Superior standing at the other side, a look of panic in her blue eyes. 

 

“Father Ren, you must come at once!”

 

“Are we to do this now, then? At this late hour?”

 

She looked confused. “Father - It’s Miss Kenobi. She is missing!”

 

* * *

Rey rushed headlong into the howling night, welcoming the barrage of the rain against her face. In the chaos of the hall, it had been easy to slip upstairs past everyone’s notice, to quickly grab a bundle of her belongings, and to make her unseen escape.

 

Truthfully she hadn’t fully considered where she might go, but the churn of despair and rage in her blood kept her feet swift beneath her. She ran in the opposite direction as the Admiral had arrived, not intending to meet his carriage along the road. She only wanted to go where she hoped none would follow, where she could disappear and forget all that came before. 

 

Ben hadn’t acknowledged her letter. He simply let the day proceed on as planned, as though he had not a word nor a gesture to give her as she prepared to walk out of his life. But then, at the final hour, he did something she couldn’t understand. He attacked the Admiral when they were alone. What would provoke him to do such a thing? 

 

Hux had made her feel like slugs were crawling over her skin, like something used and dirty. She never felt that way with Ben, no matter how tawdry their private games became. She always believed he wanted more from her than just carnal knowledge - that he wanted an intimacy, an exchange of fears and hopes. 

 

But he had shut himself off from all her attempts to reach him, to show him that they were divinely fated to be together. And now her one prospect, as repugnant as it might have been, was dashed to splinters. Ben wouldn’t claim her for his own, nor would he let her have any freedom outside from himself. How could she stay in such a cruel trap? 

 

She would not. She could not. 

 

And so on and on she ran, drenched to the bone but heated by her anger. There was anger at herself, for opening herself to the mercy of a man so conflicted he knew not wither to leave or to stay. More anger still at the people in Ben’s life who had so twisted him into knots of shame that he couldn’t acknowledge his own sense of worth.

 

Beyond that, there was anger at her father for abandoning her family to ruin, anger at her mother for leaving this earth for whatever blessed realm lay beyond, and anger at Plutt for his disgusting greed which robbed her of any pittance she might have saved from her old life. 

 

Most of all she felt blistering, maddening anger at God — His silence, His complicity, His judgment which He had no right to pass if He wasn’t going to intervene on behalf of justice. 

 

She stopped then, doubled over and heaving from the exertion of her pace. Her fists balled at her sides, and her body was rigid with rage. Lightning split the sky around her, and she tipped her head back to the heavens with a violent scream. 

 

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? SHOW YOURSELF, YOU COWARD!”

 

The only answer was the cry of the wind. Rey stumbled on, toward what she could not say. 

 

* * *

Kylo joined the other clergy outside as the storm continued its punishment. The nuns held whalebone umbrellas, but the priests simply wore heavy hooded cloaks. All held kerosene lanterns, though their light was of little effect in the oppressive crush of darkness surrounding them.

 

“Where could she have run to in this tempest? The nearest town is over three leagues away!” Sister Holdo exclaimed. 

 

“Are you sure you searched the abbey thoroughly? Perhaps she is just hiding somewhere,” Sister Kanata addressed the Reverend Mother.

 

“I did, Sister, and the other wards confirmed that no one had seen her since…since the Admiral left,” Phasma replied, with a pointed glare at Kylo.

 

“We should fan out to hunt for her, we’ll cover more ground that way,” Kylo said. 

 

The others looked to him as though they were dubious of his authority to be giving commands. Father Storm especially was staring daggers at him and causing unease. 

 

“Whoever finds her must bring her back at once,” he said with a menacing tone. 

 

“Of course, Father Storm, she will need dry clothes and shelter,” Kylo replied, bewildered at his meaning. 

 

At last Father Dameron spoke up in agreement to separate and so it was decided. 

 

With that, they split off in six directions, into the soaking squall. 

 

Kylo could barely think as he ran. The rain stung his eyes, and his heart was booming on the door of his ribcage until adrenaline made him sick. 

 

_ Please God, I know I am a failure as your servant, but please, let her be unharmed. Take me instead, it is me that has brought dishonor to your holy name. Protect her, Oh Lord, and I will submit to your righteous wrath.  _

 

He shouted her name as he tread through the night, straining to hear a response over the shriek of the wind. Everywhere he looked, fading balls of light bobbed up and down as the clergy shined their lanterns along the paths leading away from the abbey. 

 

Water sloshed in his boots as he traipsed into the pasture where the Admiral’s horses had captivated her earlier. It was devoid of any movement, so he pressed on.

 

“Rey! REY! Where are you?!” He cried again and again, a knot of fear tangling in his gut. He would tear the countryside apart, spend all night if he had to, but so help him God he would bring her back.

 

Kylo wandered further and further into the blackness, shielding the fragile flame with his palm. The weight of the wet cloak was pulling him down, sapping his strength, but still he did not rest. The others were out of sight now, and he could only pray they had more success than he. 

 

He had wandered for what felt like hours over every rise and slant, and he must have been at least a league from where he began. Or perhaps he was merely going in circles; this cursed storm made it impossible to tell. 

 

His voice was hoarse from calling out, but he relished the stinging pain. It was far less than he deserved.  _ Oh Rey, what have I done to you? _

 

Just then, a splinter of lightning flashed overhead, and he saw a great tree fifty paces from where he stood. In the brief illumination, there was a flicker of white on the ground near the roots, shining like quicksilver then disappearing in an instant. Could it be?

 

Kylo rushed forward, tripping on a rock as he ran, stumbling and catching himself awkwardly. He scraped his hand as he braced the impact, but immediately he was on his feet again and closing the distance. 

 

His lantern had long since been snuffed out, but as he approached he could just make out the small shape of a tightly curled ball, someone lying on their side in the dirt.  _ Rey _ . 

 

He fell to his knees at her body, his strong hands shaking her by the shoulders. 

 

“Rey! Rey can you hear me?!” 

 

Her beautiful dress was stained with mud and clung to her cold body like a second skin. He pulled her into his arms, under his cloak, willing the warmth left in him to seep into her.

 

Kylo gave a choked sob of relief when he felt her chest rising and falling faintly against the crush of his own. 

 

Tossing the lantern aside, he lifted her from the ground. She murmured an indecipherable jumble of words, her lips moving as though in a dream. He touched the back of his hand to her forehead, and he winced. It was the one part of her which was glowingly hot. 

 

_ Hold on, Rey, just hold on sweetheart. _

 

* * *

By the time he reached the abbey, he felt like a drowned rat fished from the sea. His arms burned with ache and his legs were screaming, but the only thing that mattered was the precious bundle he carried.

 

The other clergy were already waiting, having called off their search long before when it became clear the weather would not abate. They gasped when he entered, Rey draped in his embrace near to unconsciousness. 

 

“Thank the merciful Father in heaven!” The Reverend Mother exclaimed, crossing herself. 

 

“She is ill! Gather some dry clothes and something to break her fever!” Kylo ordered.

 

Father Dameron offered to take Rey up the stairs, but Ren would not hear of it. He had come this far, and he would deliver her safely if it drained the final ounce of his strength. 

 

He placed her gingerly on the cot in his study, not wanting to expose the other wards to illness. Sister Kanata followed behind and turned at the landing to find a nightgown and extra blankets. 

 

When she returned, Kylo stepped into the hall while the nun made Rey comfortable. He was still dripping rainwater onto the floor, but he gave it not a thought. 

 

Sister Holdo, who had gone to fetch a poultice from the medicine stores, approached from the stairwell. 

 

“It’s been a long night, Father, and tomorrow will be longer still. You should get some rest now.”

 

“I…I’ll go and change first but someone needs to sit with her. Have they called for a doctor?” He replied, half in a daze. 

 

“Not yet. We must wait until the storm passes, as she must also, I’m afraid.” 

 

“Sister —” he reached out his hand, almost grabbing Holdo’s wrist but then curling his fingers back at the last moment. “She will recover, won’t she? Please.”

 

“I suspect she became too cold in the rain, and in that thin gown. As to whether she will regain her strength…who am I to speak of the Lord’s will, Father?” 

 

He nodded numbly, then walked off toward his quarters to shed his soggy clothing. 

 

Returning immediately afterward to her side, he fed wood into the fire until it was a healthy blaze, and settled down into the chair. He felt as if a millstone were tied about his neck, so heavy was the weight of exhaustion and dread upon him. 

 

Rey’s eyes remained closed, and he wiped the sweat from her smooth brow as the fever burned below. She was mumbling again, and his breath hitched sharply when it sounded as though she had called his name.

 

Kylo did the only thing he knew to do, which was to rest his elbows upon his knees, hang his head and pray. Alone in the room, he cried the words aloud. 

 

“This is the consequence of my sin, Father, but I beg You, don’t visit Your punishment upon her! I will atone, I will submit, I will follow Your will once again, if you will only let her live.”

 

His prayer babbled forth from his lips like rushing water, and he laid his hands upon her small body as he spoke, wishing to pour the force of his life into her. 

 

Nothing mattered to him now, except her return to health. He would give up his frock, he would give up his vow, he would give up his eternal soul to gain this one single hope. 

 

So deep in concentration had he fallen, that he did not hear the click of the door behind, until a voice cut suddenly through the quiet. 

 

“Kylo. We need to talk.”

 

Kylo lifted his head as though from a daze, and turned to the sound to see Father Finn Storm. 

 

* * *

 

Kylo stared openly, blinking his tired eyes, unsure of what fresh hell was about to be unleashed upon him. 

 

“I need you to come with me. Now,” Storm commanded. 

 

“But what if she stirs? She needs —”

 

“This is more important, I’m afraid,” he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.

 

He stood from his seat, his spine protesting with a series of snaps. A prickling along the back of his neck whispered a warning that he was powerless to heed.

 

Father Storm gestured for Kylo to follow, and he led him into his quarters. They were blessedly alone, Dameron having returned to his own room after the Admiral’s hasty retreat. 

 

Storm’s chamber was smaller and far more spartan than even Kylo’s own, and though the younger priest offered him a seat, he chose instead to stand with his back to the door. It was too secretive, this unplanned meeting, and he sensed it was no time to trust hospitality.

 

“Why have you called me here, Brother?” Kylo asked warily.

 

“I won’t speak around it. There has been a most serious allegation about the nature of your relationship with Miss Kenobi.” 

 

The earth seemed to drop from beneath his feet. He felt himself sway backward slightly, his shoulders leaning into the door. Blood pounded in his ears, hot and dangerous. 

 

_ Breathe, you must breathe.  _

 

“What sort of allegation?” Kylo did his best to project confidence, but even he knew it was a poor imitation. 

 

Father Storm looked almost embarrassed to say. “That you have behaved…indecently in your private audiences with her.”

 

He tried to respond but it came out in a choked whine. He tried again. “Who would make such an allegation? You know the reason I have taken time alone with her, it was to prepare her for today.”

 

His fellow priest shook his head, as though saddened by the lie. He reached into the fold of his cassock and retrieved a folded parchment. Wordlessly, he stepped closer and handed it to Kylo.

 

Arching a brow, Kylo looked down at the note and scanned his eyes over the words. He bit down on his tongue to keep the gasp from escaping. It was addressed to him - from Rey. When had she written this?

 

“ _ But what you don’t truly realize is that I love you, too.” _

 

_ “I trust and I hope - because I love - that someday you will come to see yourself as I see you: a man whose passions have been twisted against him, but that make him more sacred than any holy instrument could ever be.” _

 

_ “I can be patient. I can persevere. One day you will accept your own heart, and on that day we will live together, in love, as we were always meant to.” _

 

By the end his eyes were swimming with tears, and his face was burning. She didn’t blame him for any of his grievous faults. She still loved him. She said she would wait for him, even now. God in heaven, she was so achingly pure. His darling Lamb. 

 

Kylo nearly forgot Storm was in the room - but it was a deadly mistake. He was there alright, waiting like a viper coiled to strike, watching his every move. 

 

“Father,” Storm demanded, “You are found out. Now swear before the Holy Spirit - How did this happen? Did the girl seduce you? Have you been led astray by a Jezebel in the ripeness of youth?”

 

Kylo blanched at the gall of the question posed. “No! No. It was me!” He was babbling now, his words coming at a desperate clip. He had to make Storm believe him. “She is blameless. I…I forced myself upon her! When I saw that she believed herself in love with me, I rejected her. She is but a child, she never understood what she was doing. It was my evil alone.” 

 

It was clear from Storm’s expression that he was not convinced. “Do not add more stones to the mountain of your sins, Brother. I will have the truth! I saw you at her bedside. You had the look of a man besotted.” 

 

He turned his gaze away, heat rushing like a river to the surface of his skin. “You’re wrong. What I feel is only guilt.”

 

“And your attack on the Admiral? That was borne of guilt, too? If I were an evil man, I should think that having Miss Kenobi sent away would be exactly my desire if she looked to create a scandal for me.” 

 

His eyes clamped shut, willing this nightmare away. “I…”

 

What Storm said next he could not anticipate. “My heart is not so hard that I cannot see the struggle you face, Kylo. The vow of chastity is not lightly taken.”

 

Kylo drew a breath. Could Storm be offering him mercy? 

 

His hopes faded with the priest’s next words. “Yet I cannot turn a blind eye to this iniquity, either. Tomorrow the clergy will convene to censure you, you must know this. But you will present to them that you have already decided to voluntarily submit to judgment for your slight against the Admiral. You will travel to the archdiocese at once. If you have any hope of mercy at all, you must tell the Church elders to reassign you. If you refuse or fail to convince them, I will expose you before the Supreme Mother for the good of St. Jedi.” 

 

Leave the abbey? Surrender as Rector? Kylo knew there were far worse fates, yet he could not deny the blow. Still, there was a ray of light in the darkness. “You have not yet informed the Mother Superior?” His voice lilted with hope.

 

The priest rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Not yet. Out of respect for the man you once were. But believe me when I say that your resigning as Rector is the only outcome I will accept in exchange for my silence. If you take any other path, it will certainly mean excommunication.” 

 

He nodded solemnly, knowing he could not refuse. This was what he deserved, after all. “But what of Miss Kenobi?”

 

Storm inhaled a sharp breath. “Did you deflower her?”

 

The four horsemen of Kylo’s ruin rushed in on him at once - anger, regret, guilt, and shame. He balled his fists and grit his teeth. “Absolutely not! Have the doctor examine her if you wish!”

 

“Very well. Then she will be permitted to leave for a workhouse when she recovers. We cannot have such a blot on the abbey, especially now that she is eighteen. But I will not punish her for your iniquities. May God have mercy on your souls.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are champs for hanging in there until the end! I promise, this angsty business is coming to an end soon :) 
> 
> And don’t be too hard on Rose or Finn... they think they’re doing the right thing in the context of their circumstances, after all.
> 
> I thought I needed 3 more chaps to wrap it all up but actually I only need two! So we are very close now...


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo faces judgment and Rey receives some important news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is not a river wide  
> Not a mountain high  
> And neither sin nor evil  
> Could change how I feel inside  
> But true love is priceless  
> For true love we pay the price  
> But there's nothing  
> Can keep me from loving you  
> Not fire  
> No not ice  
> \- Ben Harper

 

The clergy convened early the following day, just after morning prayer. There was a foreboding sense that he was standing trial, but Kylo was too sapped of strength to muster a defense. He surprised them by letting their accusations go unchallenged - that he had imperiled the mission and perhaps the very existence of St. Jedi, that he was emotionally compromised and out of line with the Spirit’s counsel, and that he may be unfit to lead. 

 

He stood and listened to it all, never disagreeing, and at the end it was he who quietly suggested that he present himself before the archdiocese for the archbishop’s judgment. Father Storm stood at the back of the room, nodding along with the statements of the others, but saying nothing; he only met Kylo’s eyes at the last, giving his silent approval. True to his word, Storm had not raised the charge of indecency nor shared the contents of the letter. Kylo had no choice but to uphold his part of the bargain as well. 

 

Now, a few short hours later, he found himself inside the belly of a carriage once again, traveling for the archdiocese. Father Storm had not permitted him more contact with Rey, but he did allow Kylo to speak with the doctor who had arrived just after their meeting. His assessment was that the chill of the rain had lowered Rey’s body temperature, leaving her vulnerable to fever and to catching a severe cold. The doctor left some herbs for Sister Phasma to mix into a broth that Rey was being spoon fed every four hours. He warned them to be cautious if Rey developed an ache or if her fever did not break by the evening but that without these signs, rest and nourishment should bring her back to full health in a few days.

 

Kylo had to thank God for small mercies. 

 

As the carriage bounced along across the rolling terrain, his head bobbed toward his chest and his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. It seemed the sleepless nights had at last caught up with him, and he found himself unable to avoid the slow drift into dreams.

 

* * *

 

“ _Look what I’ve found, Mother!” The small dark haired boy in short pants said._

 

_The woman’s smile was like the sun, comforting and life sustaining. Her skirts brushed the ground as she knelt down to see._

 

_The small brown bird in the boy’s cupped hands was skittering across his palms, thrashing its wings against the little cage of chubby fingers._

 

_“It’s hurt, Mother, we must help help it!” The boy - Ben himself, aged eight years old - cried out._

 

_“You’re holding it too tightly, Ben, be gentle now or you will crush it,” Leia cautioned._

 

_He relaxed his grip and gave the creature reprieve. Its round black eyes were unreadable, but in a few moments its shaking stilled._

 

_“Whatcha got there, Benny boy?” His father asked, appearing suddenly and yet unquestioned, in the way that only occupants of dreams can do._

 

_“It’s a bird, Father, it’s hurt its wing. I want to rescue it!” There was a plea to his voice now, as though he might have to prove his intentions._

 

_“Well then, let’s keep it in this box for now. See, I’ve put holes in the top. You’ll have to go and find some grub worms for it. Can you do that, Ben?”_

 

_“Yes, Father, I’ll take good care of it and protect it until it gets better. Then it can be my pet, and sing to me every day from my window.” There was no lie in his small cherub face. He gently placed the bird inside the box his father had made._

 

_The moment shifted. Some days had passed, the stream of time flowing instantly from one point to the next._

 

_He stood now beside the box, having dutifully brought the bird’s daily meal. The lid was in his hands. As soon as he slid it free, as soon as the bird caught a glimpse of the blue sky calling it home, it was gone. Wings which were broken had now mended, and it could not stay a captive any more than the boy could stay a child._

 

_He felt a hand around his shoulder as fat tears dripped from his eyes. His lip quivered. He did not want to cry in front of his mother. For once, he was glad his father was not here to see. He stifled his sob._

 

_“Will it come back, Mother? Will it come back to sing to me?”_

 

_“We have to let it go now, Ben. It doesn’t belong to us, it belongs to the wilds. We did a kind thing to help it on its way, but now the kindest thing we can do is to let it go.”_

 

_He gripped at her skirt and let the words blanket around him. The kindest thing was somehow the hardest thing, too…_

 

* * *

 

Kylo awoke to the sensation of tight squeezing in his chest. He had not dreamed of his mother in years. He flexed his hand, trying in vain to hold the feeling of her muslin skirts in his fist, of her warm fingers resting comfortingly on his shoulder. 

 

The dream had been of a true event, before his father’s death had snuffed out the candle of his innocence. When he believed that the world was simple, that it followed a predictable order of good and evil, of justice and reward. Now he had grown into a man, and he saw that to sear such hasty brands onto actions and people was as futile as caging a wild bird. 

 

He would cede control of his life then, as he once ceded that creature to the vast unknowable sky.

 

* * *

 

Rey turned from her back onto her side, and opened her eyes. She wasn’t in the attic with the other wards - where, then? Slivers of memory came back from the night before, vague flashes of the chaos in the hallway, the raging storm, and her clothes, soaking wet. 

 

She saw black robes at her bedside, and lifted her head with some effort to look into the face of Sister Kanata. The elderly nun held a wooden bowl on her lap, wisps of white steam rising from the surface. 

 

“Blessed day, child!” Kanata said, when she noticed Rey was awake. 

 

Rey gave her a thin smile. Her nose wrinkled when the nun held out a spoonful of the aromatic broth. Rey’s stomach was growling, yet she had no appetite. 

 

“You must eat this, my dear. It will help you regain your strength.” 

 

Kanata had not withdrawn the spoon and Rey saw she had no choice. She opened her lips and let the warm liquid trickle into her mouth. It was salty and slightly bitter but her grumbling stomach was pleased. 

 

“You gave us quite a fright yesterday! Whatever were you thinking, going off into that squall?” Kanata chided.

 

Rey winced. Her emotions had completely overtaken her; thinking was not part of the decision at the time. “I know, Sister, and I beg your forgiveness and also God’s. I was…distressed.”

 

“All of us were. What a dreadful thing it was, the business in the hall.” She shook her head, frowning in disappointment. “But it wouldn’t have done to add tragedy to the sorrow.” Kanata fed her another helping of broth.

 

Rey swallowed with a nod. “You’re so right, Sister. I should like to confess at once and be cleansed. Could I please see Father Ren after I’ve eaten?”

 

Sister Kanata’s frown deepened and the shelf of her brow grew tight. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He is on his way to the archbishop even now, for his own chastisement. Even Priests must submit to the righteous judgment of the Lord, Rey. I could send in Father Storm or Father Dameron if you wish.”

 

Rey stared at her, wide-eyed. Of course it made sense that Ben would have to pay the price for his own mistake, but her fever-addled brain had not considered that they might send him away. The archbishop had the power to strip him of his title as Rector, to reassign him to a new parish, or even…to defrock him. She couldn't help but feel this was somehow all her fault, and tears pricked at her eyes. The soup which was a moment ago so appealing had turned rancid on her stomach again. She shook her head when Kanata offered her another bite. 

 

“Please, Sister, may I just rest for now? I feel faint once again,” she implored. 

 

The old nun clicked her tongue in disapproval but said at last with a sigh, “Very well, Rey, but you must promise me to eat some more of this when you wake. I will leave the bowl.” 

 

“Thank you Sister Kanata, you are truly kind to me.” 

 

Kanata caressed her hair ever so briefly, then stood to exit the room.

 

Rey drifted in and out of restless sleep, compelled by the ache in her bones, despite her racing thoughts. She didn’t know how much time had passed before she awoke again to someone softly calling her name.

 

“Rey…Rey…” the gentle voice repeated.

 

Pulling open her heavy eyelids with some effort, Rose’s round face blinked into focus. 

 

“Rose?” She asked, still groggy and head feeling stuffed full of straw. 

 

“Hi sleepy head,” Rose smiled. “How are you feeling?”

 

She smacked her dry lips. “Foolish.”

 

Her friend gave her a rueful smirk at that. 

 

“May I please have a drink?” Rey croaked, spying a pitcher which hadn’t been there when Sister Kanata left the room.

 

“Of course!” Rose poured from the pitcher into a cup and raised it gently to Rey’s lips. 

 

It was cool in her burning throat and immensely soothing. 

 

Rose pulled it away when Rey had drank her fill. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Rey I…I came to tell you that I am so sorry.”

 

Rey sighed. “It’s alright, Rose, it isn’t your fault. Perhaps I was never meant to be a governess. Anyway I’m young and unwed, unlike my mother, if I just work hard enough I can…”

 

Rose interrupted her, which was very uncharacteristic of her usually fierce loyalty to decorum. “Not about the Admiral. I mean, I feel sorry for that too but…no. Perhaps this isn’t the time to tell you. I only didn’t know when I might get another chance…” 

 

Now Rey was sitting up. The tightness in her head made the room spin slightly, but she gripped the mattress and steadied herself. This felt important. “Rose, of what do you speak?”

 

Rose averted her gaze and shifted in her seat. Rey thought she looked almost guilty. 

 

“Rey, I found your letter. The one you wrote to Father Ren.”

 

That was the last thing she expected her friend to say. Blood roared in her ears, painfully intensifying her headache. “What?!”

 

“I’m so sorry, Rey. You had been acting so peculiar and I didn’t understand why, and then when I found out the reason, I was so afraid for you! Rey, for your soul!” 

 

Tears were streaking down Rose’s face, and Rey hated the sight of them. Why should she be crying, when Rey was the one who had been betrayed?

 

“That letter was private!” Rey hissed. 

 

“I know, and some part of me wishes I had kept it that way. I never meant for this to happen. I only wanted you to be safe, not to be taken advantage of by a lecher, and not to damn your soul!”

 

“LET ME WORRY ABOUT MY OWN SOUL, ROSE TICO!” She shouted, immediately regretting it when her raw throat ignited in protest. 

 

Rose choked back a sob and stood to leave. Rey covered her face with her hand.

 

“It’s not what you think it may be, Rose. He didn’t force me,” she said, quietly and with some twinge of unreasonable shame. 

 

Her companion said nothing, an ache glinting in her dark eyes. 

 

“Can I please have it back? My letter? I can burn it if you wish.” 

 

An even longer pause. “Rey…I had to. It was dangerous, I had to…”

 

“What did you do??” Rey whined pitifully.

 

But when the answer came, she wished she had never been rescued from the raging storm. 

  


* * *

 

The two day journey was at its end, and the cathedral of the archdiocese rose like an ivory mountain in the distance. Kylo picked at a bit of dust on his robes and straightened his collarino, wondering if today would be his last time to don it. 

 

Another few minutes and the carriage slowed to a stop. He took a breath. It was time to face whatever judgment awaited him beyond the ornate doors. 

 

He was greeted in the main hall by a lanky, elderly priest with arrow straight posture. He had gray, bushy eyebrows that bobbed as he spoke. 

 

“Blessed day to you, Father,” he greeted Kylo. “Do you have business here?”

 

Kylo nodded in reverence. “I do have business, although the archbishop is likely not expecting me. I am Father Kylo Ren from the Coruscant parish, Rector of the St. Jedi Orphanage. It is a matter of urgency.” 

 

The eyebrows quirked. “Urgency, Father? If the archbishop is not expecting you, and you are requesting his immediacy to do so, I should think he would like to know the nature of your visit.”

 

“I have come to make confession.” He held out the sealed letter of testament that the Mother Superior had written for the archbishop concerning his transgressions, and his hand only shook a little. “Will you please deliver these to His Excellency?”

 

The older man blanched a moment, then pursed his lips. “I see. I shall notify His Excellency, but I will have to ask you to wait until his duties are attended to. Shall I fetch you anything while you linger?”

 

“No, Father. I am making a fast until I have received my penance. Yet I thank you for your hospitality.”

 

“Very well. The Sanctuary is open, should you wish to pray.” With that, the priest turned and left through a chamber on the right, leaving Kylo alone in the hall.

 

He made his way into the cavernous worship hall, but he could not find the words to pray. Instead, he sat and thought of Rey, and steeled himself for the moments to come. The outcome that he had sworn to Father Storm to abide by was all that now protected her reputation. Kylo didn’t know where he stood before God Almighty, but he knew what Love demanded of him. He could do that much, after bringing so much ruin, and so he must. 

 

Sometime later, a small eternity, he heard again the shaking voice of the elder priest calling out to him.

 

“Father Ren, the Archbishop can attend to you now.”

 

He stood and subtly wiped his palms on the sides of his cassock as the stony gaze of angels glared from above. 

 

The priest led him up two flights of spiral stairs and down a short hallway, to a heavy wooden door. He rapped thrice, swiftly, on the door and then turned to leave. 

 

The door opened, and there was Archbishop Dooku, in his red piped cassock and purple fascia. His face was stern as Kylo bent to kiss his right hand. 

 

Kylo waited until invited inside and then stood until Dooku sat, and gestured for him to do the same. The two sat in silence for a long beat, then at last the archbishop spoke. 

 

“I have read the testament of the Mother Superior Gwendolyn Phasma, and I must say it gave me great displeasure. Do you wish to give your own account of these events, Father Ren?”

 

He worried at the inside of his lip, which twitched slightly from the pain of his teeth. “The Mother Superior is honorable and forthright. I am sure she has told it to you true, Your Excellency.”

 

Dooku steepled his hands across his face and his stare pierced the air between them. “I see. Then what have you to speak of your defense? I should tell you, she has not made any recommendation of penance and I will solely decide your fate, as it pleases the Holy See.”

 

“I understand. I can only say that I allowed my duties of Rector to supersede my vow as the hand of Christ, and for that I beg His forgiveness. The wards are each precious to me, and I could not sit by while one of them was being slandered. But it was my place to turn the other cheek, I see that now.” The words were stinging his lips even as they flew forth. All of it felt so hollow, yet he had to proceed. The ship had gone too far to turn back to shore.

 

“You must know this is a most hateful stain upon our Church. Admiral Hux is a powerful man, with powerful friends. Friends that the Church cannot afford to make into enemies. And was it just a few days ago I received a letter, signed by your very hand, requesting increased funding for the Orphanage? If this is the code of conduct there it surely cannot stand.” 

 

Kylo flinched. “Please, Your Excellency, do not punish the children for my sin. There are others at St. Jedi who could yet shepherd the flock out of the lion’s den. I beg you, give me reassignment to some lowly post, and you may tell our benefactors that the rot has been cut out.”

 

The wrinkles of Dooku’s narrow jowls deepened as he frowned. “You would surrender your authority willingly?”

 

“I would. To make my penance before the Church and before the Holy Father.”

 

The Archbishop said nothing for a long time, and Kylo began to fret that he was not going to agree. 

 

Then he stood from his chair, his cassock flowing to his feet.

 

“Very well, Father Ren. I accept your proposal. But you should know, the parish I have in mind is in leaner circumstance than even your orphanage. There will be no room for grandstanding nor foolhardy displays. If you come before me again in this manner, the Holy See will not be so generous.” 

 

Kylo stood also, and planted another kiss on the Archbishop’s hand. “Thank you, Your Excellency. I will not forget your mercy, nor the mercy of God.” 

 

He had done it. He had saved Rey, and won St. Jedi even more borrowed time. 

 

So why did he feel so empty?

 

* * *

 

It had been two days since Ben had left the abbey. Rey was not yet recovered to her full strength, yet she had left the worst behind her. The herbs left by the doctor had done wondrous work, and being made to rest had sped the process. As for letting go of the past, that would take far longer. 

 

Once she was out of bed, Father Storm had visited to say that the hour had come for her to leave St. Jedi. He was not unkind, and Rey marveled that he did not mention her secret. As repayment, she spared them both the indignity of begging for more time. It was to be the workhouse for her, like her mother before her. She bore the news with a stiff upper lip, as she had done with so many hardships in her young life. 

 

But then a marvelous thing occurred.

 

In the waning afternoon light, as Rey was packing her meager satchel, Rose appeared in the doorway of the annex. They had hardly spoken since the day of her confession. With her departure looming, Rey felt even deeper conflict; Rose was her oldest and dearest friend, yet she had painfully betrayed her. Still, not knowing whether she would ever get the chance to bid goodbye to Ben, she could not bear the thought of also parting hatefully from Rose. 

 

Her friend approached timidly, like a new fawn in the spring, cautious of its surroundings and expecting danger everywhere. 

 

Rey gave her a lopsided smile. “Come in, Rose.”

 

Rose’s mouth twitched at that, and she came to sit on the bed.

 

“Rey, I—” she began.

 

Rey sighed, closing her eyes to stay the tears. “I know. I know you thought you were protecting me. You likely think so, even now. I can’t blame you for that, Rose. But you must know our thoughts on God have always been separate.”

 

Rose looked at her hands. “I do. You obey - obeyed - but, it wasn’t the same for you, was it? The nuns say that fear is the heart of love, but…”

 

Rey knelt and placed her palm on Rose’s thin wrist, looking into her deep brown eyes. “Rose, I believe that _love_ is the heart of love. Ben — Father Ren — he was never meant to be a priest. I know you must think it infinitely evil of him to stray from his vow, but I feel that God wants us to do what we are most suited to. And I believe He puts people in our paths to accomplish that. Just like He put you into mine. I am still so grateful He did, no matter what.”

 

The other girl threw her arms around Rey’s waist, and held fast. “I am so grateful too. And so sorry for any pain I have caused you. We may not always believe the same things, but I will always treasure your friendship.”

 

Rey stroked her smooth black hair. “And I yours, Rose.”

 

They sat a few moments in silence, until Rose sat up again and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then she pulled an envelope from her dress pocket. 

 

“I nearly forgot. Sister Kanata asked me to give you this.”

 

Rey studied it curiously. They couldn’t be returning her letter to Ben, could they? No, this envelope was sealed with a green wax crest. With a slightly trembling hand, she slid her finger into the gap and gently tore away the envelope’s seam. Unfolding the parchment it contained, her mouth fell open as she read.

 

_Dear Miss Kenobi,_

 

_In response to your query for a governess position, I am happy to extend an offer on behalf of the esteemed household of Baron Gial Ackbar. Lord Ackbar is in need of a tutor for his five children who can instruct them in the art of languages, mathematics, religious studies, and proper etiquette as befits their ages. If you remain interested in this most important charge, we would receive you at Mon Cala Manor to discuss further terms of your employment._

 

_Cordially yours,_

_Mr. Ralph Quarrie, House Steward for his Lordship_

 

Rey clutched the precious letter to her chest, in a state of disbelief. She had nearly forgotten about the inquiries she had made, before any of this turmoil had consumed her.

 

“What does it say?” Cried Rose, noticing her friend’s change in demeanor.

 

“Oh Rose! It says that I am rescued!” She laughed joyously, an incredible lightness rising within her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who messaged me about updating this story; it kept me going when I was battling burnout. I'm so honored that it meant enough to you to think about, even after so many days. This was going to be the next to last chapter but it was getting so long that I decided to split it. The next chapter is nearly done and will be posted very shortly, and then I promise to have the last chapter done by the end of September. Priestlo has become very dear to my heart and while I may take breaks, I could never abandon it.
> 
> Thank you to my infinitely encouraging beta and moodboard queen, [fettucine_alfreylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/profile). I hope to someday be half the writer you are.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey bids farewell to St. Jedi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could it end like this?  
> There's a sting in the way you kiss me  
> Something within your eyes  
> Said it could be the last time  
> 'Fore it's over  
> -Ghost

 

Faced with her last night at the abbey, Rey had come to the garden. This place had been her home for ten long years, and at times it had seemed more a prison. She had yearned for something that lay beyond, a belonging she ached to find, and so she had spent much of the decade dreaming. 

 

Now those hopes and fears had commingled into a poignant sense of nostalgia, arising from the tangle of emotions that was her current state of mind. She had made her peace with Rose, she had been spared at the last possible moment from a future at the workhouse, and there was only one regret remaining to attend: that she might never again lay eyes on her darling Ben. 

 

She had to believe that one day he would return to her, one day he would come to see that his place was with her and not with the Church. But if he didn’t know how to find her, where she would be sent, could that really happen? 

 

If only she had the chance to say goodbye. To tell him that she forgave him, to tell him that providence had permitted another, better way in the end. To say once more that she loved him, now and forever. 

 

His study was cold and dark, kept locked in his absence. So she went to the one other place on the grounds she could feel close to him, to the place she had always felt the most at ease. Slipping away from her room had not provoked in her even the slightest trepidation, for what did it matter now? What could the nuns or priests do to her, that had not already been done?  

 

She had fought a terrible battle, and she had escaped with her freedom. She would weather whatever came next. 

* * *

 

The silver threads of moonlight shimmered upon the path, and he moved toward the garden as if pulled by an unseen hand. Past hedgerows and hemlock his footsteps fell, silent in the soft black night. 

 

As he rounded the corner to the clearing he visited so often in his mind, where he had pledged his devotion to her among purple blooms, his instinct was rewarded. She sat upon the stone bench, her face uplifted to the stars, as beautiful and intense as any seraphim. He stood holding his breath, watching her, not wanting to break the spell of this frozen instance as though he could slow the assault of time and keep her perfect forever. 

 

At last, he spoke.

 

“I thought I might find you here. It is long past time for Little Lambs to be in bed.” 

 

Her head jerked in his direction, eyes growing wide and the petals of her lips falling open as if in bloom. Then she flew into his arms. 

 

From the crook of his neck she cried his name again and again. “Ben! Ben. Oh, you came back! I feared I would never see you again!”

 

He stroked her silken hair that smelled of lavender, and he felt himself melting to ease. She was back in his embrace and for this one single moment, all was right with his world. Her body felt so small pressed to his chest, slotted perfectly between his breast and the bend of his arm. His shirt was growing damp with her tears, but he received it as a blessing. 

 

“Rey. My darling. My sweet sweet girl.”

 

Still with her cheek resting on his shoulder, she spoke. “But how are you here? Everyone said you were to be sent away.” Her voice cracked on the last syllables. 

 

It was harder to say than even he anticipated. “I am afraid there is some truth to that. I have come back only to collect my things. I leave for a new parish at first light.”

 

She nodded with a subtle whimper, her breath faint and warm against his neck. “I have broken you.” 

 

He tilted her chin upward to look into her eyes, darkened emeralds lit only by the moon. “No.” The word was clipped in its finality. His own gaze stared fiercely back. “You must never think that. No, my angel - you have  _ saved _ me.” 

 

And then he kissed her. There was no prelude, only passion rushing raw and ragged from the wellspring of his soul directly into hers. His mouth engulfed hers, receiving the fires started by the press of her lips and stoking them with strokes of his ardent tongue. It was messy and hard, and it spoke all the words he longed to say but never could. 

 

When she broke away, gasping for air, he did not slow but dipped to the bend of her jaw and the delicate column of her throat. He kissed her as if he could mark her, as if the outline of his lips would leave behind a signature of his love on her skin forever. 

 

She was moaning now, quietly but plaintively too. He felt the tension in her body dissolve, and her hips rolled forward to meet his. The press of her thighs against his groin was all it took for his manhood to stir beneath his breeches. The last time he saw her she was clinging to life, and now she was here in his arms, completely alive and completely surrendering, and oh, how he longed to accept that gift.  

 

As he worked a wet trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, she panted out, “Ben, I want you. I need you.  _ All _ of you.” 

 

He took her meaning immediately, for it was also in his heart. But it was not a thing lightly taken, regardless of any vow. Yet the vow was no longer his concern. His one and only aim now was to protect her from any further harm than he had already caused. No matter how deep his longing, no matter how his mind and body roared their desire, he must not commit further sin in this regard. 

 

He pulled his eager mouth from her skin and locked their gazes once more. In the distance, a nightingale trilled its sorrow. 

 

“Little Lamb, I wanted this moment to be as sacred as you are. In a lavish boudoir, surrounded by candles and soft cushions, all the things my princess deserves.”

 

“ _ This _ is what we have, Ben. This is all that I can ask, I see that now. This is all that I need or want. Love me, Benedict Solo, love me harder and truer than ever before. Let me keep this memory until I die.” 

 

He cradled her small cheek in his palm. How different life had been, not even two months ago, before she had awoken him from his gray slumber. He had been safe and he had been comfortable, but he had not been happy. Every day was simply a catalogue of actions and reactions he had been ordered to perform, and promised that they would fulfill him. They hadn’t. They didn’t. 

 

_ She did.  _

 

And now, after every misery he had caused her, every fret she had borne for his sake and every tear she must have shed, she was asking for this one thing in return. The thing that would bind them together forever, truly, in body as they were already in soul. 

 

Tomorrow he would say goodbye, the most painful action of his already tragic life, because he still believed in the right and the wrong, and that there was so much more right waiting for her away from here and away from him. 

 

But tonight he could deny her nothing. Tonight he had one last chance to prove that although he could not be the man that she deserved, his bruised heart would beat only for her until the end of its days. 

 

May God forgive him for what he would do.

* * *

 

Rey closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the ravish of Ben’s kisses. His lips wandered lower, to the exposed skin at the neckline of her night dress, and her blood was singing his praises within her veins. Her heart seemed to say his name with every beat:  _ Ben, Ben, Ben, _ and then she realized it was her own voice repeating that sacred syllable, made drunken by his fervor. 

 

There was nothing she wanted more than this. 

 

And when she told him so, she watched the dawning on his beautiful face, watched it change into a hunger and a resoluteness. He wanted her too, as she had always known. Tonight he would show her just how much. 

 

She watched as he removed his black riding cloak and spread it on the ground at their feet. Watched as he knelt before her on that cloak, turning the palm of her hand to press his lips to the pulse point of her wrist and lathe over it with his tongue. 

 

She shivered, a raw shard of lust twinging in her belly. Oh, how she had missed his mouth! Those plump and tender lips and the wild, seeking tongue they concealed. She could hardly stand to wait until the heat of it surrounded her everywhere. 

 

He had worked his way to her elbow, his wide fingers nimbly unlacing the bodice of her nightgown. The first time he had unrobed her, they had both trembled slightly at the breach of sanctity. Now, they made their own holiness with the pledge of love between them, and it emboldened his touch. 

 

Her loosened gown sagged at the shoulders, and he drew a breath as he pulled it away. She felt the tenderness of his gaze; the hunger was blunted with something softer, yet just as needy. She stood proud as the statues in the garden, a moonlit nymph triumphant in her own beauty. 

 

Ben sat back on his haunches to admire her. 

 

“Rey, you are perfect,” he breathed. 

 

She reached out to cradle his cheek, and then slid both her hands to his own shoulders. She felt the hardened outline of his chest beneath the shirt. Tonight, she would have them go at the same pace. 

 

Rey knelt down beside him, both of them leaning on their knees now, yet Ben’s height meant she was eye level to his torso. She kept her sight there, widening the row of buttons as she undid each one. His marble skin rose and fell with his deep breaths. She placed her hand over his heart and felt its wild aliveness, then replaced her hand with her lips. 

 

He hissed as the velvet of her mouth skipped feather-light along his chest, suckling briefly at the circle of his nipples. His strong hands cinched at her waist, pulling her closer as she let his shirt drop to the ground behind him. 

 

He pulled her into a passionate embrace, their heated chests pressed tightly together, and their mouths joined in a slow erotic dance. He explored every bit of her there and she opened willingly to him, eagerly mewling her enjoyment of the kiss. 

 

Then his hands were moving lower, to push the gown from the flare of her hips. He followed the curve of her body, cupping his hands over the swell of her buttocks and kneading until she began to pant. Her small clothes were growing damp with slick, and the cool air on her hard nipples tantalized her further. 

 

She fumbled with his breeches a moment, until he met her there to assist. Rey looked shyly into his eyes when he broke their kiss. It was of course not the first time they would be naked together, but this felt different. The pounding adrenaline had smoothed into a gentle flutter of the heart. She realized it was because she was fully aware in this moment of her own desires, and of this offering she would make. The Church would say it was sin, but it only felt like truth.

 

He finished unlacing his pants and shucked them to his thighs, pulling out one leg and then the other. Maneuvering to lie down upon the cloak, he held his arms out to her in invitation to join. She finished removing her own gown, and settled into his embrace with a sweet sigh. 

 

They were bare except for their small clothes now, and she could feel the turgid swell of his cock against the junction of her thighs. She wiggled to rub against him and delighted in the throaty moan he produced. 

 

“I want to  _ feel _ you,” she whispered. 

 

He nodded, and she hooked her fingers into his underwear, gently tugging them down, followed by her own. She remained amazed at the heaviness of his manhood as it sprang back, pointing toward her belly. Instantly her little hand wrapped around the shaft, reveling to touch him where no other woman had. 

 

“Rey…oh, mercy…” Ben groaned as she continued to stroke him, twisting her grip as she passed over the sensitive tip just as she knew he liked. 

 

It wasn’t long before she grew hungry to take him into her mouth, and she gave into the temptation with abandon, shimmying down to his side. Ben’s moans of approval were encouraging her on, as was his alluring musk. Their days apart and the fear of never touching him again had given her an insatiable need to fill all her senses with Ben - his taste, his scent, the sound and feel of him; she needed it all. 

 

If there was any heaven other than this, Rey was sure she had no need to go there. For how could it ever compare? 

* * *

 

Ben - for that is who he was with her, not the man of God he had tried to be but simply  _ the man he wanted to be _ \- felt his whole body thrum with pleasure. It was heady, and it was intense - so intense, in fact, that he felt he should stop her before he spent himself too quickly. He wanted this night to last. 

 

He gripped at her shoulders, pushing her gently until her mouth came off his erection with a wet  _ pop _ . 

 

“Little One, a moment to breathe,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. But already his cock was missing the heat of her sweet mouth.

 

He slid his hands under her arms then, pulling her small body up to where he lay on the cloak, and sat her astride his thighs. From this vantage her breasts had the slightest heft to them, and he covered the twin mounds with his hands, completely engulfing them with ease. 

 

Rey threw her head back as he massaged and rolled them in his palms, alternating between delicate caresses and lustful squeezes. When he brushed the pad of his thumbs over her nipples, first one and then both simultaneously, she gave a little “Ah - ah - ahh” cry that made his muscles clench. 

 

_ The beauty of woma _ n.

 

She leaned forward, offering her breasts to his suckling mouth, and the wetness of her slit spread across his groin. The resulting ache was merciless. He licked and nipped at her sensitive buds, all the while yearning to complete the dance.

 

She was panting heavily from his ministrations, her hot breath raising the hairs at his neck. Every nerve felt taut to snap. It was time to end this delicious torture for them both. 

 

With one hand cradling the base of her neck, and the other pressed to the small of her back, he swiftly but gently flipped her so he was the one above. Her eyes grew in surprise, but her spine arched expectantly. 

 

“Are you ready for me, my love?” He murmured, a sudden spike of nerves shooting in his belly.

 

“Yes, yes darling! I want this. So much.” 

 

She must have seen his brow furrowed, now that the moment was at hand. Ever able to sense his innermost thoughts, she reached up to stroke his forehead and brush away a lock that matted there in sweat. 

 

With her smile to reassure him, he reached his hand down to cup her mound. His fingertip swirled in the soft thatch of curls, spreading open the outer lips as he reached lower to her opening. He knew she would need to be prepared first, and that it may be painful for her at the start. He wanted to minimize that as much as possible, so that this might be rapturous for them both. 

 

Rey cooed happily as he stroked and played with her pussy lips, spreading her legs to give him better access. When he had circled lazily to the bottom and back up again, he began to work his finger inside with slow but deliberate movements. Her body swallowed him instantly, sucking his finger to the second knuckle with a rush of fluid. 

 

“Ohhhh, Ben,” Rey breathed, grinding her hips against his hand. 

 

Her eagerness was causing the blood to pound frantically in his swollen cock. He tried to steady his breathing, for the warmup had only just begun. Adding a second finger to the first, he paused and let her adjust to the stretch before moving his hand in a corkscrew motion.

 

Rey’s bottom lifted off the cloak as she arched toward his hand with no sign of hesitation. His brave Little Lamb, always so good for him. 

 

“That’s it, my sweet girl, let me give you the pleasure that you deserve,” he told her, his voice a low hum. 

 

He waited a while before adding another digit, until she had made enough slick to drip onto his palm. 

 

“More!” She cried, seeming to lose herself in the maddening rhythm of his fingers buried so deep in her heat. 

 

When he began stroking her clit with his thumb in small round sweeps, she came apart. He relished in every one of her jerking cries that echoed in the dark night. She rode out her orgasm with panting breaths, and he gently caressed her legs and belly until she stilled. 

 

He was so hard now that it was painful for him, and he only hoped he could complete the act before his own climax would burst upon him. 

 

Carefully he spread apart her still slack legs, and he straddled either side of them. In theory he knew what he should do, but in practice there was still a bit of awkwardness to overcome. 

 

Rey was lying so very still beneath him. He propped himself on one hand beside her head, and with the other he cupped her small cheek. 

 

“I love you,” he said, putting deliberate stress on the middle word. 

 

“And I love you, Ben. I always will.” 

 

The ‘always’ gave him the courage to go on. 

 

He grasped at his cock, feeling with the head between her legs. She was so wet it was difficult to guide himself blindly. 

 

“Sweetheart, can you…?” He asked, hoping she could help and suddenly feeling like a child. 

 

“Oh, I…” Rey fumbled too, no doubt sensing the head of his cock as it searched for purchase between her lips. 

 

She moved her hand to touch him, pushing him down further than he realized he should be, and instantly he felt the increase in warmth on his sensitive crown.

 

“Mmpf,” he groaned with closed lips.  _ Keep it steady, Ben, there’s still a long way to go. _

 

He gave a small push with his hips, trying desperately to be gentle. There was resistance and a small hitch upward, and then the tip squeezed past the tight canal. He sucked in a sharp breath. He was only about an inch inside, but already the sensation was so strong. 

 

“Oh!” Cried Rey, at the same moment he entered her. 

 

“Are you alright, Little Lamb? Does it hurt?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

 

“It feels…strange. Not at all like…your fingers,” she murmured. “It stings a bit.”

 

“Do you want to stop?” 

 

“No…no.” He felt her chest inflate and deflate beneath him as she steadied herself. “Keep going, please. I’m ready.” 

 

The moment of stillness inside her had helped him adjust to the warmth and the pressure. Still, it was incredible, unlike anything he had felt before - wetter than his hand, hotter than her mouth. Again he hoped he could hold out long enough for them to share the experience. 

 

He withdrew ever so slightly and gave another push, entering in about a fourth of his length this time. Rey was whimpering, and he reached out to lace his fingers through hers. He squeezed her hand, pulled back his hips, and stroked forward again. 

 

Focusing on Rey’s comfort thankfully had allowed him to ignore some of the shooting tingles down his spine. But when he buried himself to the full hilt, he couldn’t stop his own needful moans. 

 

“Rey,” he croaked out, “My darling Rey. We are one.” 

 

She was biting her lip and her body gave slight shudders where their hips connected. He felt her grow even wetter, easing his slide in and out. Now she was making unmistakable sounds of pleasure, giving him leave to turn his attention to his own. It was nothing short of magnificent. 

 

“Yes…yes, Ben,” she breathed, warm and throaty, “Two souls, one flesh.” And then she raised up to kiss him, and the channel of her sex squeezed even more tightly around his length. 

 

Ben was so close, but trying with all his might to stay the inevitable. He gave a few more strokes, pumping his hips in a slow rhythm that built to intensity, their cries of pleasure intertwining in the night. When Rey lifted her legs to fold around his lower back, he swore he saw whole galaxies swirl behind his eyes. 

 

And then he could no longer stop the flood that was rushing wildly through his limbs. All of his energy honed to his center, and he quickly, regrettably, removed himself from her inviting heat. Taking himself in hand, his seed arced out onto her belly, splashing in warm pools on her moon-soaked skin. She writhed as each burst found its target, still lost in the throes of her body’s high. 

 

The vow was broken. He was linked now to another power and another promise, and to the beautiful secrets that they shared. 

  
  


* * *

 

Little tears were crowding the corners of Rey’s eyes as she lay under Ben, who was still catching his breath. Their faces were close together, his neck bowed as though in prayer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. 

 

She felt wholly changed, yet also complete, as though she had fulfilled a purpose she never knew existed within her. It was a feeling of quiet peace. 

 

Before the act, there had been a moment of trepidation; the painful realization had struck again that after tonight, she might never speak to Ben again. Was giving him this singular part of herself that could never be returned a mistake? 

 

But during her time at the abbey, she discovered that she had in fact learned something about faith. Her faith in God was still on uncertain ground, but her faith that Ben would one day find the courage to shake off his bonds and join himself to her was planted solidly in her heart. 

 

And so she persevered, and now was overcome by a swell of emotion so deep and so sweet that it expressed itself in tears. She let them roll down the curve of her cheek, feeling the tickle as they spread, feeling the cool drying of Ben’s spend on her stomach, feeling the damp press of his body against her own. She felt everything, and it was like waking up out of a long sleep to find herself alive once more.

 

“My Lamb, what troubles you? Are you…sorry?” Ben asked in a voice strained by worry. He must have noticed her crying.

 

Rey smiled and brought the heel of her palm up to wipe at her eyes. “Sorry? No, Ben. I could never be sorry for this. For you.” 

 

He breathed a relieved sigh, and covered her upturned face in kisses: starting at her hairline, around the circle of her forehead, onto her salt-tinged cheeks, down the bridge of her nose, and finally to her bitten lips. Her chest fluttered with each one. 

 

When he had finished, he took the bottom of his cloak and began wiping gingerly at her stomach, cleaning her off. He finished by wiping between her legs, causing her to shiver in aftershock. Ben was always so delicate to her in the moments after; she hoped it was no longer out of guilt, but at last out of reverence for the love they made. 

 

He lay down beside her afterward, propped on his elbow and facing her direction. His other hand was resting at the side of her face, fingers tangled into her hair. She smiled, searching the details of his expression in the dim light while the symphony of the night played around them. 

 

“Yesterday I didn’t know whether I would see you again, and now here you are, in my arms. Even if…” she trailed off.

 

“I know you may not believe me Little Lamb, but this is where I wish I could stay, always.” 

 

“I do believe you, Ben. I am just not convinced that  _ you _ believe you. Not yet, anyway. But one day, you will.”

 

He looked down at the ground and his hand in her tresses stilled. “Perhaps. But you know why it has to be this way. It isn’t for my sake.” 

 

Rey sighed. “I know what you tell yourself, to justify your self-flagellation. To shut out the love you believe you don’t deserve.”

 

He withdrew his hand and made a fist. “How can I believe that, when I have caused you such misery? When I have ruined your prospects and gotten you sent to the workhouse?” 

 

“Ben, I didn’t get a chance to say it before, but I’m  _ not _ going to the workhouse!”

 

“There isn’t any way you can come with me, Rey, I’ve told you…”

 

“No! Look at me. Look.” She waited until he met her eyes. “While you were gone, I received a letter from a solicitation I had sent. When I thought…thought you were only toying with me. I wrote to several families and one of them answered: the Ackbars of Mon Cala. A fine family, Ben! I’ll be well looked after.”

 

Ben fell onto his back with a cry of laughter. “Do you mean it? Oh Praise God above! He heard my prayers, even after…Oh, this is marvelous!”

 

She delighted in seeing him happy, for the first time in so many days; even if it came with a stab of sadness in the finality of saying the words out loud. She would leave, and he would leave and…what if she was wrong?

 

“Yes…marvelous…” she murmured, stroking his raven hair.

 

They stayed awake the remainder of the night, sometimes talking and sometimes just passing the minutes holding each other close. There were more burning kisses, more whispered declarations, and more passionate couplings. By the time the sky was threaded through with pinpricks of pink and purple, Rey’s body ached almost as deeply as her soul. 

 

Carriages awaited them both, and it would not do to be seen together before departure. They stood a long while, as long as time would allow, at the archway to the garden in a tight embrace. It took every last bit of her remaining strength, but she did not let him see her cry as she stole away toward the abbey. She had put his mind at ease as best she could, and she had taken what he was able to give in return. 

 

At least that much would always be hers, and no deity or principality could rob her of it. Not in this life, nor in the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left! I am getting weepy thinking about it. Stick with me, my lovelies, I think you will not be disappointed in what is still to come... xoxo
> 
> Eternal thanks to the best beta in the world, [fettuccine_alfreylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/profile), and to my fellow Dadam sister [sunshineflying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying) for the gorgeous moodboard.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story concludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love of mine, someday you will die,  
> But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark.  
> No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white,  
> Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark.  
> If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied,  
> And illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs,  
> If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,  
> Then I'll follow you into the dark  
> \- Death Cab for Cutie

 

_ One Month Later _

 

Ben watched the little sea of heads bow in reverence, huddled into rows in the tiny farm-side chapel. His voice rang out clear and calm as he gave the blessing and dismissal. 

 

He made the sign of the cross. “May Almighty God bless you; The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  _ Ite, missa est. _ ” 

 

Kissing the altar and making his bow, he departed through the narrow walkway and out into the blinking sunlight, the small congregation following like ducklings behind. He greeted each person by name as they exited, most leaving by foot on the dirt roads that led back to wide acres and rustic dwellings. 

 

When the procession had ended, he turned to the path on the left where a humble stone parish house stood, hidden among the trees by a mass of overgrown vines. This was where he spent his days, when he was not among the community. There were infants to christen, and final rites to perform, and counsel to give to the young. But mostly he found himself here, in the close walled single room, trying to feel his way back to some sort of purpose. Lost in thought, lost in memories, lost in prayer. 

 

Lost. 

 

He did not feel unhappy; he simply felt incomplete. Whether that sense of wholeness he discovered only in Rey’s sweet embrace would ever come again, he did not know. So he made do to live with only half his soul, according to the bargain he struck. He hoped the sacrifice meant something - he hoped she was finding a better existence in her own corner of the world. 

 

Ben had just sat down for his afternoon meal - salted fish and boiled potatoes - when there came a knock at his door. He stood quickly to answer, for visitors usually meant some matter of urgency, especially on the days of rest following Mass. When the door flung open, he was even more shocked. 

 

There on his porch, in a black overcoat and derby hat, stood his family’s solicitor, Lor San Tekka. 

 

“Lor? What on earth are you doing here?” Ben sputtered. 

 

“Ben! Thank God I found you at last!” Lor exclaimed, already moving to come inside. 

 

Ben stepped aside, bewildered, and mumbled belatedly, “Come in, then, and sit down.”

 

Lor entered the small living quarters, but he did not sit. He looked at Ben with a weighted stare, brows knitted together. Ben was beginning to truly worry.

 

“Will you please tell me why you’ve come? I’m happy to see you, of course, but this is all becoming rather ominous.”

 

Lor removed his hat and placed it on the table. “Forgive me, Ben. It’s just that it wasn’t easy to find you. I went to the orphanage first, but the clergy there either hadn’t known where you’d been sent or weren’t willing to tell me, I’m not sure which. So I had to travel to the archdiocese. It took a bit of convincing there too, I’m afraid. What exactly have you done to incur the wrath of the Archbishop?”

 

Ben sighed and shook his head slightly. “It’s a long story, Lor. I’d be willing to tell you another time. But what was so urgent that you had to track me all over the countryside?” 

 

Then the realization dawned. He had left things on poor terms with his Aunt, and she had been frailer than he had ever seen her. That was over a month ago. He felt the blood trickle from his face. “It’s…it’s Aunt Priscilla, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Ben, I regret to tell you that she has passed.” The old man’s voice was low with compassion.

 

Ben sank into the wooden chair. He covered his hands with his face, and a dizzying whirl of emotions fluxed through his gut. Regret for the last words they had spoken. Shock that his final connection to his family was now dissolved. And even, as ashamed as he would have been to admit it, a small measure of relief? 

 

Priscilla Snoke had given him things, but she had never been generous. She had taught him things, but she was never a guide. She had been harsh and unforgiving, and he still had to shake away her voice from his mind in his weaker moments. But she was the only mother he had known, after…It was all so complicated, and hitting him now with the force of a millstone. He nearly forgot Lor was still in the room, until he felt his gentle hand upon his shoulder.

 

“I’m so sorry, son. I know it’s a blow. But there is more I must share with you.” 

 

Lor took the seat opposite from Ben, resting his elbows upon the small table. He clasped his fingers together, as though not knowing how to start. Finally, he reached into his overcoat and withdrew a small bundle of parchments tied together with twine, and a faded brown ledger.

 

“As we were sorting through your aunt’s affairs and her will, we came upon some…discrepancies. Accounts being opened and then closed suddenly, large promissory notes being cancelled, things we couldn’t give account for with the dwindling loss of your grandfather’s estate.”

 

“What does this have to do with me?” Ben asked, unsure of where Lor was leading.

 

“It’s difficult to explain fully, but the heart of it is, your aunt had been concealing a large sum of money that no one realized she had. I needed to find out how, and why, if I was going to execute her will. For your sake, Ben.”

 

“Me? But I am a priest. I took a vow of poverty. I can’t inherit.”

 

“Exactly.” Lor’s face hardened, as though he were still holding something back.

 

“I don’t understand. If there’s something I can do to help you, Lor, you know I will gladly do it, but I must say that you aren’t making any sense.”

 

The solicitor took a breath and let it out slowly. “Have you ever wondered what happened to your father’s fortune, Ben?”

 

Ben’s lips became a hard line. “My mother wrote me out of her will. That’s all I really need to know. It is moot now at any length, as I said before.”

 

“She didn’t, but I can see why you believed she did.” Lor pushed the bundle of documents toward him. “We found these under Priscilla’s bed, hidden in a loose floorboard. Ben. It pains me to say what I must relate to you next. Your mother didn’t disown you, she only intended for your inheritance to be kept in a trust until you were of age. She—”

 

Ben’s head was spinning, and he felt a sudden surge of anger. He pressed his palms hard into the table top. “What are you talking about? This can’t be true! And if it is true, you knew and you hid it from me?”

 

Lor held out his hand in defense. “I swear, I only found out after Priscilla’s death! It was her, Ben. She made you believe - all of us believe - that your mother disowned you after Han’s death. Don’t you see it? This is why she was so insistent on you taking the cloth! She concealed Leia’s true intentions, and to make doubly sure her scheme would work, she pushed you into the priesthood to remove your chance at inheriting.”

 

He could only sit in stunned silence. If this were true, his aunt had been capable of even deeper cruelty than he could have fathomed. If this were true, his mother had…had not thrown him away like rubbish. His throat constricted painfully, choked by tears. 

 

After a long moment to compose himself, he managed to croak out, “What proof do you have of this? Why would Snoke do such a thing?”

 

Lor’s eyes were swimming with sympathy. Ben hated the way it made him feel. “The proof is there before you, son. The ledger is the secret record Priscilla kept buried away. And what you’re holding now — that packet — it contains letters from your mother. Letters addressed to you.”

 

Ben looked down at the parchment, and the sight began to blur behind a veil of mist. The flood he had held back would no longer be stayed. Could it truly be so? This small bundle was actually a window to the past, to his mother, and she had written to him all those years ago? He thumbed through the stack, feeling at least two dozen slips of paper brush against his fingertips. She had written not once, but many times? And Snoke - Snoke had hidden them from him? He felt sick with a terrible sense of loss. 

 

He began to shake. His shoulders folded in and a sob ripped through his body; part misery, part rage, part relief. He covered his face with his hands, and Lor gripped at his shoulder again comfortingly. 

 

“Why?” He wailed. “Why would she do this?” 

 

“Your aunt was always jealous of your mother. Leia followed the desires of her heart, and let the shackles of decorum be damned. She was your grandmother’s favorite in so many ways, and I think Priscilla never forgot it. She was glad when your mother broke the family’s heart by marrying Han, and probably even more glad when he was killed.” Lor shook his head sadly. He stared past Ben’s body, as though seeing something long gone. “I stayed in her employ out of loyalty to your family, and out of affection for you, Ben - your mother’s only son - but I always knew your aunt had a cold heart. I’m only sorry I never could have guessed the depths of it. It didn’t seem like Leia to cut you off that way, but grief makes people do strange things. She passed so quickly after you returned to Alderaan that none of us had the opportunity to see for ourselves.”

 

Ben was taking slow breaths, trying to calm himself and his frayed nerves. It was such a great deal to absorb, and it cast the last twenty five years of his life in an unfamiliar light. Connections whirred in his mind as he ruminated on the things that Lor had revealed.

 

“There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why would my aunt steal this money from me, only to conceal it until after her death to donate to the Church?”

 

“She didn’t safeguard all of it. She spent a large sum on doctors and various remedies. Priscilla was obsessed with extending her life, and believed any charlatan that claimed to have the secret. And I believe it was enough for her to know that Leia’s son would never touch the funds - cut off from both your family and your inheritance.” 

 

“Then I suppose she got her wish, didn’t she? I’ll never speak to my mother again, and here I am cut out of yet another will,” he spat bitterly.

 

“Only if you wish to be.” Lor met his eyes, and he saw the imploring there. “I have poured over your aunt’s last testament, with the stench of these revelations in my nostrils. The will specifies that since there are no living heirs of sound mind and viable claim to your grandfather’s estate, the proceeds are to be given to the Church. But Ben - if you were to leave the priesthood,  _ you _ would have a viable claim. I know this isn’t the life you wanted for yourself, and I know you have found a way to make meaning of it, but think, Ben, you could have a chance to start over. Enough of your father’s fortune remains to make a comfortable living, more than modest, even.” 

 

The knowledge crashed over him like a wave, cold and stinging and then growing warmer as he sat with it.  _ Rey _ . He had broken his vows to the Church, and though he knew God was merciful to forgive, he also had come to realize that his faith was not dependent on whether he wore the collar. He wanted to forge a new path to service now; as a husband, and a father. But he had given her up to someone more worthy than he, someone that could provide for her and bring her honor. Yet if what Lor was saying were true, then…could  _ he _ be that man? Was this his sign that he was indeed forgiven, and being set free? The idea was a life raft extended after what felt like an eternity marooned at sea. 

 

He was adrift in his thought for several moments, when Lor broke the silence. 

 

“Just think on it, won’t you Ben? I cannot wait long, for I have delayed the estate as much time as I am able, but I will be staying in the township until tomorrow evening. Come and see me before I depart, and tell me your decision.” He stood to leave. “And son - please promise me to open your heart to what your mother has written here. Think of what she would want for you, but more importantly - what you want for yourself.” 

 

Ben stood to his feet as well, though he felt unsteady. “I will, Lor. And I thank you, more than I can ever say.”

 

He walked his old friend to the door and bid him farewell, and then he moved back to the table. The bundle of letters was waiting there like a long forgotten promise; to see it gave him both joy and pain. He reached out with a trembling hand to tug at the twine and release the treasures it held. 

 

Drawing a tight breath, he picked up the top parchment in the stack. The handwriting was all curls and loops, decorative and yet clearly legible - the regal script of his mother. Already, more tears threatened to flow. There would be no suspending them once he began to read the words.

 

_ Ben, my only son, _

 

_ Three months have gone since your father passed, and nearly as much time since I have seen your face. I am writing to say that while my anger has begun to cool, the pain of losing you both has only intensified. I don’t know if you can forgive me for taking you from your home. I don’t know if you can understand that it seemed the only choice - the best choice - to save you from the scourge of passion that tormented you so. I recognize that flight of reason, for it lived also in my father and sometimes within myself. I never wanted it to overcome your life as it has so many others in our family. I hoped that time away, to reflect and to realign yourself with the wonderful purpose you carry might take that burden from you. Yet now I fear that in doing so, I have only added to your yoke. I see now that a mother and her child should never be separated. Please, Ben, I beseech you to return home. Let us try to reforge the pieces of our bond, and in so doing create a future for us both.  _

 

_ Your loving mother, _

_ Leia _

 

He was sobbing now, unabashed and unrestrained. Decades of shame and regret were dissolving inside him like ice thawing in spring. She had loved him. She had always loved him, through everything, and he had denied himself the warmth of that love for nearly twenty years. 

 

His head slumped forward to rest on the backs of his hands, and he wept until his voice was hoarse and his eyes felt dry and utterly drained. 

 

“Mother…” he said aloud, as though she could still hear. “I miss you, too.” 

 

When his sorrow had dulled to a throbbing in his chest, he continued with the letters. Each one brought the same mingling of agony and elation. She had written to him at least once per week until her death, sometimes more often, and every message was the same; small details changed, but always they ended with her wish to see him again. He learned that Snoke had communicated with her to make her believe Ben was happy there, and not ready to see her or return home. 

 

With each new correspondence, his rage grew. It was like a flaming sword inside him, cutting through to his heart for the years he had lost, and cleansing him of any pain he might have felt at his aunt’s passing. With one fell swoop his eyes were opened to the truth: she had never had his best interests in mind, not for a single moment, and all the ways he had tried to please her had only taken him further from himself.

 

But within his soul there was a swelling too, a bubbling up of all the love he had rediscovered. If his mother had cherished him, and forgiven him, then perhaps he could give this to himself also. 

 

And he would be damned if he lost one more person in his life to the forked tongue of guilt. His mother and father would never come back to him, but there was someone who still could…

 

* * *

 

_ Two Months Later _

 

“Wead it again, Miss Wey, pwease?!” The chubby cheeked toddler pleaded, his limpid eyes wide with innocence. 

 

Rey smiled and shook her head slightly. “George, it is past your bedtime already. Your father will be displeased if he discovers you still awake.” 

 

His lip quivered slightly, and that was all it took. Rey hugged him close, settling back onto her lap and opened the picture book once again. 

 

“Very well, just  _ once _ more, but then it’s right to bed with you, young man.” 

 

He clapped his tiny palms in delight and Rey started the story anew. 

 

She was just tucking him under the covers when she heard the housekeeper, Mrs. Crawford, speaking to someone downstairs. 

 

“Sir, I can plainly see that you’ve traveled a long way, but it is most unorthodox for a young lady to have a gentleman visitor at this time in the evening. Whatever your business is with Miss Kenobi, I must insist that it wait until the morning!”

 

Rey’s awareness snapped to focus at the sound of her name. Someone was here for her? A  _ man _ ? Her heart sped to full gallop in her chest, but she fought against it. 

 

_ Don’t be ridiculous, Rey. You’ll lose your wits if you spend them on hope.  _

 

Still, it was unusual, so as lightly as she could to avoid waking George, she crept out into the hallway to look over the banister. 

 

“I mean no disrespect, madam, but it is a matter of high urgency. I beg you to fetch her, and I swear it shall only take a moment.”

 

_ That voice _ . She knew it. Could never forget it, not even if she tried. 

 

Caution abandoned, she raced down the stairs. Mrs. Crawford looked back in surprise, her disapproving lips tightly turned down. 

 

“Rey, do you know this man? He says he must speak with you, but I warn you - Master Ackbar will not tolerate impropriety from his employ. Why, the clock has just struck half past seven!”

 

But Rey no longer heard. She had met his eyes, and there she could only sink into the shimmering honeyed depths. The world beyond that simply faded away. 

 

“It’s alright Mrs. Crawford, he’s a priest. This is Father Kylo Ren,” she heard herself murmur, in a tone that sounded unfamiliar to her ears.

 

Ben stepped forward across the threshold and removed his hat, also ignoring the tutting of the scandalized Mrs. Crawford. “Actually, it’s just Ben Solo now.” 

 

Rey covered her mouth with her hand.  _ So it  _ _ is _ _ true. He’s come back to me.  _

 

“Rey, may we please speak privately?” Ben asked in a near whisper, gentle yet resolute. 

 

“Yes.” She turned to Mrs. Crawford. “Please excuse us.” And with that, Rey stepped out onto the porch, Ben following close behind. 

 

They walked a few steps out into the yard to ensure that the woman would not be listening in, side by side but saying nothing. Rey felt her skin thrum with ache to be near him, to feel his touch once more. It had the sense of one of her constant dreams, and she bit the inside of her lip to ensure she was actually awake. 

 

When they were sufficiently away from prying eyes, she pivoted to face to him. Her mind cried out to break the silence, but she felt it was important that he be the first to speak. She had poured out her heart to him that night at the abbey; now it was his turn to make the offering. 

 

Ben reached out with hesitant fingertips, bringing them within an inch of her hair, toward a stray lock that had fallen to her chin. Rey made the slightest of nods, more with her eyes than with her head, and having permission, he brushed it back to the shell of her ear. 

 

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed. 

 

“What did you mean back there? ‘It’s Ben Solo now’, you said.” She changed the subject, every desire dancing within her to leap into his arms, but the little voice cautioned,  _ Wait. He owes you this much at least. _

 

“Rey, I—” He started, tilting her chin up to look down into her eyes, just as he did that day in the garden. The day that he told her that he wanted no other, only her. “I am lost without you. I know I have no right to come here, to see you again or to lay my feelings at your feet, but the moment we parted ways was the moment I said goodbye to my very spirit. It’s tethered to yours, you see, by an invisible bond, and wherever you will go, there it goes also.”

 

He kneeled to the ground and removed a small band of silver from his coat pocket. “I beg you, Rey, with everything I am and everything I will be - let me tether myself to you by the visible as well. You have seen me, all of me; my demons and my angels, my darkness and my light, and you have not turned me away. You have given me something I have never found, not from the Church, nor from prayer, nor from sacrifice - not just absolution, but the freedom to feel alive. There is nothing I can give in return except my undying devotion. Will you honor me eternally, to have my hand in marriage?”

 

Rey’s eyes closed as tears streamed down her blushing cheeks. The words she had longed to hear since the moment their lips first touched were now being spoken. It was almost too beautiful to be real. 

 

“Yes, yes, Ben. Of course. A thousand times, yes,” she cried, and allowed him to slip the ring onto her finger. 

 

With a whooping laugh, he scooped her into his long arms and folded her to his chest, where she felt small and safe. He pressed warm kisses to her eyelids, to her cheeks, to her nose, and finally to her rosy mouth. The kiss was salted by her tears and suffused with all the caged passion they had harbored through lonely days and nights. It was over, and they had won. This joy they shared between them like a blessed chalice, sacred and pure. 

 

Finally, when the kiss broke, Rey gasped, “But my darling, how? Where will we go now?”

 

“I have finalized my laicization with the Holy See this morning. I shall tell you everything on the carriage ride. I want to leave at once, my Little Lamb. And where you ask? Why, home, of course. To our cottage by the sea.” 

 

Rey laid her head upon Ben’s shoulder, knowing her miracle had finally come. There was more than one path to Heaven, she decided then, and here in Ben’s loving embrace was her own true gateway to that treasure more precious than gold. 

 

_ The End _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending this story has been so bittersweet for me. I never thought I could complete an entire story, especially one of this length. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the unending support, encouragement, and praise that kept me going on tough days and through writer's block. Thank you for sticking out all the angst to get here, to our happy end.
> 
> Thank you to the best friend anyone could ask for, [Sally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo), for being my unflagging cheerleader, making me so many gorgeous moodboards, being my beta, and always having a listening ear. She, along with my husband, push me forward when I feel like standing still.


End file.
